


Kingdom Come

by thedragontheprincessthewriter



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Quinntana Week, quinntana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-25 19:28:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 56
Words: 185,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1659809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedragontheprincessthewriter/pseuds/thedragontheprincessthewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>QUINNTANA. Very, very AU. Quinn marries Finn, who becomes an NFL player, and doesn't meet Santana until she moves into town with her son and his father. Updates Sundays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

PART 1

................

"Quinn, you're pressing the wrong pedal."

"No, I'm not, Finn, I'm doing exactly what you told me."

The truck swerves across the driveway, past their house, towards a tree. Quinn can't seem to stop it.

"It's the left pedal."

"That's what I'm doing!"

Finn calmly pries her terrified fingers from the wheel and steers it in the other direction, then brings one hand down to her left thigh. "Left, Quinn. Left."

She looks down at his hand and giggles, because he's right. He turns off the ignition, his booming laugh filling the car and her heart for the thousandth time since they got married.

"You wanna call it a day?"

Quinn nods. "I don't wanna crash your SUV."

Finn kisses the top of her head. "Our SUV. And I don't care if you do. As long as you're OK."

Mr. and Mrs. Hudson walk hand in hand into the three story house they bought just five years ago. It still smells like new.

...........................

Quinn's busy cooking up a feast when her mother calls.

"Hudson residence."

"Quinn?"

"Yeah."

"Are you watching the game?"

She glances at the clock. She completely forgot.

"Uh, yeah." She races to the living room and digs under the plush cushions of their leather couch. Under the last one, amidst some stale chips, she finds the remote. She points it at the TV. Dora the Explorer, loud as can be. Wincing, she flips through the channels until she catches a glimpse of her husband in his uniform. 29. The day they went on their first date. She smiles involuntarily, until she hears her Judy's voice, icy on the phone.

"Today's trade deadline. I'm hoping you haven't forgotten that."

"No, mamma, I haven't."

What she really wants to say is "If you knew anything about football, you would know no one important gets traded on trade deadline." Or, "Finn's not gonna get traded, he's too good." Or maybe, "It's none of your business."

At exactly five o'clock, the doorbell rings. She opens the door gallantly and the girls come in, carrying bottles of wine and pots with flowers. They fawn over the remodeled dining room like they haven't seen hundreds identical and pretend to enjoy the food they only eat in morsels as they watch the last minutes of the game. No one says anything about the deadline, even though it's on all their minds. Instead, they talk about what they will wear to the charity gala and tear apart the new teacher at St. Paul's.

"Her skirts are so short."

"I know, completely inappropriate."

Quinn, in particular, doesn't take kindly to newcomers. "I'm telling you girls, we need to push for those uniforms at the next PTA meeting."

Bree laughs. "God, Quinn, you're ruthless."

"I'm sorry, I can't have my children around that."

After the party, she waits up until twelve for a call from Finn, but it never comes. She climbs onto their huge bed and snuggles into it contentedly. He's safe.

...............................

The next day, she picks up her children at her mother's, painfully aware her vacation's over. Willow slides into the backseat and slams the door in her face. She goes around and straps Daisy into her car seat, then heads to the passenger seat only to find out Elliott's already taken it. She maneuvers herself into the empty spot between Willow and Daisy, which, being tiny, doesn't present a problem. Her parents' chauffeur, Puck, glances at them through the rear-view mirror. He's her age, and she's known him for so long he could be a friend, and yet he is but a stranger. "Everything all right back there?"

She nods, feeling like a little girl, seated between her daughters. "Perfect."

Puck nods and gets on the road. On her right, Willow pretends to be asleep.

.............................

She tosses and turns on nights when Finn's not home. Even though they have an alarm system and every burglar protection known to mankind, she's afraid without him. During the day, too, afraid of not being able to be mother and father, or even just mother, without her husband. Sometimes, she douses herself in sleeping drops, others, she's too petrified to do even that. Tonight, she lays in bed staring at the ceiling, when she hears soft, carpeted footsteps outside her door.

"Mommy?"

She sighs. "Come in, Elliott."

He's seven, but looks about four in the powder blue footed pajamas he insists on wearing even though they're too small. He climbs into bed with her. She buries her nose in his hair and inhales her husband's shampoo.

"When is daddy coming home?"

"In, like, two days."

"That's a long time."

"Not really. Did you have a nice time at grandma's?"

"Yeah. She let me sleep with Daisy."

Oh, so that's what this is about. "Elliott, Daddy talked to you about this. There's nothing to be afraid of."

"But he's not here."

Ever since he was a toddler, it had been difficult to get Elliott to sleep in his own room, unlike Willow, who couldn't wait to get away from her, or Daisy, who was complacent even as a newborn.

It had hurt Quinn to hear her son cry himself to sleep, but Finn had insisted. Elliott had gotten used to it, even though he had nightmares regularly, especially when his father wasn't home.

"Did Willow see you come in here?"  
"No."

"Are you sure? Because if she did, she's gonna tell Daddy and he's gonna be upset with both of us."

"She didn't, I swear."

Quinn nods. "OK. You can stay. But just for tonight."

He falls asleep right away, a pleasant little smile on his face that's much nicer to stare at than the ceiling.

...............................

She spends the morning before Finn comes home at the country club, talking numbers with the girls. They're having brunch out in the garden, their children playing somewhere, though she can spot Elliott alone under a tree. Judy is watching him, too.

"You need to do something about that child."

"I don't know what else I can do, mamma."

"He should be playing with the other children."

"I can't force him to. Finn says to just leave him alone. He says he was like that when he was a kid."

"Was he?"

Quinn shrugs. Although it seems impossible to believe she hasn't known Finn all her life, they met in high school. By then, he was already Finn. It's hard to imagine he was once like her son.

On the other side of the table, they can hear Kitty's voice rising above the rest. "At least part of the money from the gala has to go to the pro-life campaign, you wouldn't believe how much money those people on the other side are raising-"

Quinn cuts in solemnly."I think all of the money should go to the campaign." She glances at Elliott, who is now lying on his back, looking up at the sky. "I don't get it. How can they just get rid of a baby like that?"

"Because they're cold, heartless people, Quinn." It's nothing she hasn't heard before.

Her mother pats her leg soothingly. "I think Quinn's right. We need to make the campaign a priority this year."

The women around the table, old and young, nod emphatically and Quinn smiles. At least she's doing something right.

..............................................

By the time Finn gets home, she's already asleep. She doesn't hear him come in the room or slip into bed, but in the morning, she finds herself trapped under a heavy arm. She slides it down her body carefully and gets up without waking him. She pulls on a robe and goes to knock on Willow's door.

"Willow. Get up."

"What do you want?"

"I have your dress for church."

Even though Willow is still in her Hello Kitty pajamas and there is black makeup smeared all over her face, Quinn feels like she is looking at herself.

It seems Willow knows it too, because she has tried everything to look as different from her mother as possible. Her hair is dyed hot pink and cut short, and causes Quinn to remember, with a pang, the little girl with the long, blond curls who was her spitting image just a few years ago. They're about the same height now, and Quinn's afraid of her daughter, who is only four years younger that she was when she had her.

She got her a pale yellow dress with a high neckline. It will clash horribly with her hair, but what won't? Willow stares at it the way one would at a dead animal, and Quinn shrugs. "I told you to come with me."

Willow sets Finn's blue eyes on her with tremendous coolness. "You really hate me, don't you?"  
Quinn shuts her eyes for a second and then opens them again, her fake eyelashes flickering like feathers on a bird. "Willow, please. I'm begging you."

They hear Finn's voice coming from the other end of the hall. "Quinn? Where are you?"

Willow snatches the dress from her and retreats into her room. Quinn hurries back and meets Finn in the kitchen. He picks her up and she buries her face in the crook of his neck.

"I'm so glad you're back."

He puts her down and looks at her with an odd little smile. "Willow giving you trouble?"  
Quinn shakes her head and grabs his hand. "We have to get ready for church." He laces their fingers together and follows meekly.

......................................

Finn sets Daisy on the kitchen counter as he laces up the ballet slippers she wears everywhere to perfection, then pours two cups of hot chocolate and hands one to Elliott, who takes it with a smile. Finn brings the other to his lips just as Quinn comes in the room, wearing heels and his favorite tight, little white dress. He whistles. "Wow."

He puts the cup down and spins her around, and then they hear Willow's voice, sharp like Judy's. "No way."

Even Finn has to admit she looks ridiculous in that pink dress.

"So that's what you're wearing, and I have to wear this?"

Quinn sighs.

"Cause I have a dress just like that one that I can wear."

Quinn's eyebrows fly up in alarm. "You wouldn't!"

"Oh, so you can go to church looking like a hooker, but I can't?"

Finn speaks up in warning. "Willow."

Quinn turns on her daughter. "I am a married woman, Willow. I can wear whatever I please. You, on the other hand, are not. When you have a husband-"

Finn lays a hand on Quinn's shoulder. "It's OK. Willow, go change into some jeans on something."

Willow throws her dad a grateful glance and storms off. Quinn tilts her head back to look at her husband, whose head is practically level with the chandelier in their kitchen.

"Finn, the whole reason I got her a dress was so she wouldn't wear jeans to church."

Finn wraps his arms around her. "I know. And I'm sure y'all can try again next week."

Quinn sighs resignedly and burrows into her husband's arms.

....................................

It is a few minutes until the end of service, and everyone is doing exactly the same thing they were doing all service long. Willow is texting, Quinn is wishing she could slap the phone out of her hands, Elliott is leaning against Finn's shoulder, fast asleep, and Daisy is on his lap, placidly listening to the sermon with a serene expression on her face that matches father's exactly.

On their way out, several people stop to greet Finn, to pat him on the back and say they're glad he's back. As if he had been going somewhere, Quinn thinks. Their lack of faith in him irritates her, and also, she doesn't like sharing her husband. She hurries the children along to the car, and by the time she has them all inside and strapped up, Finn has managed to free himself from the crowd.

They head over to her mother's for brunch. The food is rich and heavy, and Quinn can't find anything to eat in the house except for carrot juice and a couple of celery stalks. Finn shoots her a sympathetic glance as he piles up sausages, grits and hash-browns on his plate.

They sit around the table. Quinn's father, Russel, casts his eye upon them proudly, and Quinn feels proud too.

"So, Finn, anything interesting happen on the deadline?"

It's just like Judy, to bring up something no one wants to talk about. Finn shakes his head as he gulps down the food in his mouth with a wash of soda, and then he turns to Quinn.

"Actually, yeah. You remember my friend Sam?"

"From college? I think so." She does, vaguely, from the one time Finn brought over his frat brothers.

"Well, he got traded into the team."

"I didn't know he was still playing." She can feel her father's eyes on her, like when she was a little girl and said something she wasn't supposed to. Finn frowns."I thought I told you."

"I remember everything you say, Finn." It's true, and he knows it.

Her mother passes around a large bowl. "Mashed potatoes, Quinn?"

"No, thank you." But she grabs the bowl anyway.

Her father coughs loudly. "Sam Evans, right? Played for the Eagles?"

Finn's face lights up. "Yeah. That's him."

Quinn scoops up a large serving of mashed potatoes onto Daisy's plate. Willow dips her finger into the bowl and sucks it into her mouth as she speaks. "He was on the bench a lot."

Her grandfather nods. "Yeah. But he did some interesting things last season."

"Enough to get him noticed?"

"Yeah. He's moving into the Rosewood estate with his family next week."

Finn laughs at the pinched look on Quinn's face. "You'll like them, I promise. They have a kid who's Elliott's age."

He ruffles his son's hair fondly and Quinn smiles, mollified.


	2. Chapter 2

It isn't really that she's surprised Willow's behavior would guarantee a summoning to a parent-teacher conference, it's just that she's never been summoned to one before. Not about Willow, at least. There have been plenty revolving around Elliott, and even one about Daisy and her fetish for ballet slippers, but never one quite like this, where Quinn feels she's about to be reprimanded.

When she figures out who it is that's going to be doing the reprimanding, she decides to go alone, without telling Finn. She wears her favorite Lilly Pulitzer dress and her grandmother's pearls.

Ms. Jones is just as they described her, and wearing, not a short skirt this time, but the most impossibly tight jeans. Jeggings, Quinn thinks with a shudder, exactly the kind she forbade Willow to wear.

"Mrs. Hudson?"

Quinn nods, and decides there is no time to be wasted here."What did she do?"

"Excuse me?"

"Willow, what did she do? Why am I here?"

"Mrs. Hudson, I realize you must be a very busy woman-"

"I'm never too busy for my children."

"All right, then. Well, Willow didn't do anything."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Do you receive a lot of complaints about her?"

"No. I think the teachers are afraid of her."

Ms. Jones laughs, and Quinn looks at her sharply, until she brings a hand to her mouth.

"I'm sorry, it's just, the thought of being afraid of Willow-"

"Ms. Jones, would you kindly explain why I'm here?"

"Are you afraid of Willow?"

"Why would I be afraid of my own child?"

"I know dealing with kids this age can be difficult-"

"I deal with my daughter just fine."

Ms. Jones bites her lip, nowhere near as self-possessed as Quinn thought she would be. "Mrs. Hudson, Willow came to me-"

"Willow what?"

"Willow came to talk to me because-"

"Because she confused you for one of her friends?"

Ms. Jones looks mildly surprised that someone that looks like Mrs. Hudson could be so keen and Quinn sighs."Do you have children, Ms. Jones?"

"No."

"Then I hope you're not about to tell me how to raise mine."

"I just... look, Willow is a wonderful girl and-"

"I know what my daughter is like."

"I wasn't trying to-"

But Quinn is already turning around, over this whole thing the minute she walked through the door. She feels Ms. Jones hand on her shoulder like a weight and jumps, the way she does whenever someone other than Finn touches her.

"Mrs. Hudson, our counselor offers therapy for families, I'm sure she'd be more than happy to-"

If Quinn was the slapping kind, she would have turned Ms. Jones's cheek red. Instead, she heads over to the principal's office. Within the hour, fifteen mothers are present and ready sign Quinn's petition over something they don't really understand, because Quinn will never have to tell them.  
.......................................

"Let me get this straight. You want her fired because her clothes are inappropriate?"

"Yes."

"Doesn't that seem a little ridiculous to you?"

"No."

"She's Willow's favorite teacher, did you know that?"

"No, Finn. Willow doesn't talk to me, remember?"

He flinches at the semi-accusing look in her eyes. "Oh, come on. You were a daddy's girl, too."

She sighs. "I know."

She turns around on the bed until she's facing her husband. "Do you think I'm a good mom?"

Finn looks so taken aback she wants to kiss him."How can you even ask me that?"

"I mean, Willow hates me, and Elliott is... Elliott, and... sometimes I wonder if it's all my fault."

Finn lays a hand on her heart. "There isn't a single teenage girl in this country who gets along with her mother, Quinn. Not even you do, and you're a grown woman. And I already told you Elliott takes after me."

"I feel like I'm not trying hard enough."

Finn shrugs. "Then try harder."

Quinn looks at him, eyes round. "I thought you said I was doing fine."

"You are. But if you think you can do better, who am I to stop you?"

He's holding back laughter and pretty soon, Quinn's laughing too, rolling over him on the bed like it's a game, the kind they would have played if they had met when they were children.

.........................

"No, you know what, people are saying she had an abortion once."

"No!"

"Yes, Bree told me."

"But was it, like, before she moved here, or-"

Quinn is rolling out flour on the counter when she sees Willow walking past her. "Yeah, sorry, Willow's here. Gotta go. Talk to you later." She hangs up the phone and smiles at her daughter.

"We're making sugar cookies. Wanna help?"

There is flour smeared across the side of her face and she looks a little pathetic, thirty-six and excited about cookies, but not pathetic enough for Willow to take pity on her. "No."

She heads off towards her room, but Quinn calls out, hesitant. "Willow, wait. I want to ask you something."

Willow walks up and stands in front of her, uncomfortably close. "What? If Ms. Jones had an abortion?"

"I... no, of course not-"

" 'Cause, I don't know about her, but you sure could have used a few."

Quinn's finding out, what it's like to slap someone, only here there is no angry red, only sugar and flour, cool on Willow's cheek, and a daughter who doesn't even flinch because she's been expecting it for days.

Elliott and Daisy come in the kitchen, their hands clean and pink. Willow retreats, not for her sake, Quinn thinks, but for theirs.

Elliott grabs the cookie cutters and shows Daisy how to cut the dough into shapes, something Quinn wasn't even sure how to do until a few minutes ago, because this is the first time she's ever made cookies. The first batch burns and the icing doesn't have the consistency she was hoping for. She's got about five different tabs open on her ipad, with videos on how to do this. Elliott's stars look nothing like stars, and there is butter on Daisy's ballet slippers, and that's too much, even for Daisy. She bursts into tears as Elliott tosses his stars into the trash can, and Quinn is about to beg Willow's forgiveness and ask her to help her figure this out when a familiar voice floats in through the front door.

"Miss Quinn?"

"In here."

She is deeply sorry she ever doubted anything they told her in church when Millie, her maid, appears in the kitchen. "Millie? What are you doing here? I thought you were visiting your sister."

Millie shrugs and eyes the mess in the kitchen. "I came back early. Wanted to help you get ready for the gala. Everything OK?"  
Quinn's about to burst into story, or maybe tears, but Millie is already wiping Daisy's shoes with a wet cloth and helping Elliott make another batch of stars.

"I don't know why I thought this was a good idea."

Millie smiles indulgently. "It is a good idea."

"Not for me."

"For you too, just... maybe not today?"

She's right, and Quinn nods. "Not today."

Millie mixes some more butter into the icing, slowly."Maybe you go dance, let me take care of this?"

It's so tempting Quinn would waltz right out of the kitchen if she could.  
.......................................

The community center is only a few blocks away, but she runs them like she's being chased. It's empty, on Sunday morning, but the doors are never locked, not for her.

She puts her ipod on the deck and doesn't even bother choosing a song. The first thing that comes on, one of Finn's hip-hop favorites, and she's exploding on to the hardwood floor, her feet mapping out a choreography her mind is too exhausted to remember.

The music keeps going, songs of all sorts, she's not picky, blending into the next and the next and the next until two hours have passed and she's depleted every move in her repertoire in a way that would make Daisy proud. She turns off the music and sits down in the middle of the room, surrounded by mirrors on all sides, with no other choice but to look at herself in three hundred and sixty degrees. She closes her eyes, lays back, and opens them to stare at the ceiling, the only spot in the room at which looking into requires no effort.

When she knows she must go home, she drags her feet behind her, pretending she's a mermaid walking on her tail. When she gets home, the house is clean, silent and smells like cookies. Elliott and Daisy are in the kitchen, proudly licking the icing off their creations.

Elliott grabs the prettiest cookie from the tray and takes it up to Quinn.

"You want one, Mommy?"

Quinn glances at Millie, who's always in the shadows, although in this house she's more solid than Quinn has ever felt, and smiles her gratitude at her before turning back on her son.  
"No, thank you, baby. I'm going to bed."  
.............................

She comes out of the dressing room and Finn smiles. She stares at her reflection in the mirror and frowns, then turns to her husband. He shrugs. "I think it looks good."

She rolls her eyes at him. "You've said the same thing about every dress I've tried on."

Finn shrugs again. "Can't help it if I think my wife is beautiful."

Quinn glances at the multiplicity of dresses strewn about the dressing room and fights the urge to cry. "I don't know, Finn. You pick."

It is one of the biggest nights of the year, the charity gala that the girls have thrown themselves into planning for the past year. Quinn's in charge of the committee, and the ball feels as monumental as her senior prom. Not much has changed since then. Three children later, she still looks about the same, and she's just as thrilled to be the girl on Finn's arm as she was at seventeen.

He comes back with a floating piece of aqua blue tulle. She laughs as she tries it on, because it's absurd, but once she has it on finds that she looks "exactly like Cinderella," Finn says as he nods his approval. It's hard to refuse him anything, so Cinderella it is.

She's fixing her makeup when Daisy runs into the room to say goodnight. She can't speak much yet, scatters words here and there, but her admiration is obvious in the way she strokes her mother's princess golden curls, so Quinn lets her stay and watch, and even lets her put on some of her lipstick.

It's around ten when Finn and her finally manage to make it out of the house, both of them looking like they're headed to their own wedding. Just as in that day, Quinn is both proud and afraid. Proud of herself, of Finn, of the event she's put together, and afraid of something going wrong in this night she's planned forever.  
..........................................

A lot of her carelessness about clothes stems from the fact that she runs eight miles a day and used to model before she had Jaeger. Santana brushes her long, brown hair as she lays out the plain black dress she picked out for tonight on the bed. Sam glances at it.

"What?"

"I didn't say anything."

"No, but you're looking at it like you hate it."

"I don't hate it."

"Then?"

"It's just, baby, women here wear things that are more... I don't know. Colorful."

"Well, babe, I'm not from here. I'm from there."

He sighs. "I know."  
........................................................

She hates it when Sam is right. A moth in a room full of butterflies, like she needed to give these women another reason to hate at her. Not that it matters to her, but today matters because these ladies' children are the ones Jaeger's going to have to make friends with at school.

Sam grabs her hand and drags her across the room, and there is Finn Hudson, whom she met only once, but who's hugging Sam like a brother. She smiles when Sam re-introduces them, Finn's hand warm and friendly around hers. "I'd introduce you to my wife, but... I don't know where she is." He laughs and looks around the room. Santana could picture any of these women being his wife.

Sam is dragged off to meet the rest of his teammates. Santana grabs a drink and hangs around the dance floor, watching with the disinterest that permeates nearly everything in her life. She's being watched too, women and their whispers floating around her like winter air.

She heads to the bar for another drink. There is someone already waiting, an Asian girl wearing a lime green dress. The bartender asks Santana what she's having, she gestures toward the girl. "She was here first."

The girl lets out a tiny squeak, avoiding Santana's eye. "I... my husband wants a..."

The bartender clicks his tongue impatiently.

"I... something with whiskey in it, I can't remember what it's called. It's... what he usually drinks."

The bartender shrugs and the girl looks around helplessly. Santana lights up a cigarette. "What's it look like?"

The girl looks down at her hands as she answers. "Umm, it's brown and it has lots of ice and a lemon slice and it comes in a short, round glass and-"

Santana turns to the bartender. "An old-fashioned, please. And I'll have the same."

The girl seems to muster the courage to look up at her, through her eyelashes, and it makes Santana laugh. "What's your name?"

"I'm..." She seems to think better of it and sticks out her hand. "Mrs. Mike Chang."

"I asked your name, not your husband's."

The girl's shoulders slump a little. "Tina. Tina Cohen-Chang."

"Nice to meet you, Tina. I'm-"

"I know who you are. You're Santana Evans."

Santana laughs again. "Lopez, actually. Sam and I aren't married."

She grinds her cigarette into an ashtray as Tina gapes at her. Their drinks arrive and Tina gets ready make an escape, but stumbles on her heels. Santana catches her, secures a hand around her drink. "Maybe I should help you with this."

Tina nods miserably and leads Santana towards her husband, who is dancing with another woman. They watch and wait until it becomes obvious that, across the room, there is a group of women watching them. Tina bows her head in defeat, and Santana glances at her with sympathy. "Should I go? I don't wanna ruin your reputation."

Tina sighs. "It's fine. They were never going to like me anyway."

"Why? You seem like a lovely girl."

Tina flushes. "Mike's quarterback, and... I'm not as pretty as them and... He's too good for me."

"I'm sure that's not true."

"Try telling them that."

Santana looks straight across the room. "I will, if you want me to." Tina grabs her by the arm, panicked. "Don't."

Santana watches the group of girls closely as they disband and join their partners, spinning one by one onto the dance floor. "Why do you care what they think anyway? They aren't even pretty, they're just a bunch of-"

A bright flash of aqua catches her eye. "Who is that?"

Tina looks at where she's staring and sighs. Santana wants to sigh too, because for all she just said, she is convinced she is looking at a princess from a fairy tale, so luminous it hurts. The song ends and her partner, an older man, leads her off the floor. Santana wants to follow, but she feels Sam's hand on her waist.

"Santana, I was looking for you, there's someone I want you to meet." He glances at the drinks in her hand and frowns. "Why are you-"

Tina grabs both old-fashioneds and smiles at Sam apologetically. "I'm sorry, these are for my husband." It brings Santana back to the world, and she glances at Tina.

"Sam, this is Tina, my new friend."

"Hello, Tina. Santana, babe, come on, I want you to meet..."

Santana lets herself be led as she mouths her thanks to Tina, and finds herself being yanked through the crowd and then stopped at a standstill in front of the girl with the aqua dress. She looks tiny in that sea of fabric, and just by looking around the room, Santana knows no other woman here would have the guts to wear that ridiculous dress, which on her just looks ethereal. The girl is clinging to Finn Hudson's huge frame and observing Santana from head to toe. Her eyes are the most unusual copper color, and they have Santana wondering if it's real until Sam nudges her and she stretches her hand forward. The girl takes it, her handshake light and her voice a breathy whisper.

"Hi. I'm Quinn Hudson."

Quinn, Santana thinks. A name you give a child, not a woman, but this woman hides behind her husband's arm like a little girl playing hide and seek.

"Santana Lopez."

Quinn looks back and forth between her and Sam. "Lopez? I thought-"

Sam immediately cuts in. "Lopez is an... important name in Santana's family. That's why she decided to keep it."

It's true, and it's not true, and Santana doesn't say anything. Quinn looks her in the eye, with mild interest, for the first time that night.

"You're a Lopez-Avner?"

It rubs Santana the wrong way. "One of the few left alive."

Sam frowns at her. "Santana is the last of her family to bear the name."

"I am not the last, Sam," she says hotly.

Finn laughs, Quinn would never have the gall to talk to him like that, and grabs Santana by the arm. "I like you."

Santana's eyes light up, until she realizes Finn is trying to drag her onto the dance floor. "Oh, no way."

He shoots her a puzzled look. "Why? Did you drink too much?"  
"Who said I was drinking?"

"I can smell the whiskey on your breath."

"I had some champagne and half an old-fashioned, if you call that drinking."

Finn laughs again. "I always forget Hispanic women can hold their liquor."

Quinn and Sam glance at each other awkwardly. She hasn't seen her husband laugh with another woman in a while. He, too, has obviously had more than his share to drink.

"So you're not gonna dance with me? You think Sam will get mad?", Finn asks, grinning at his friend.

"I don't care if he does. It's just that I don't know how to dance."

Finn looks so surprised at this he lets go of her hand immediately. "What?"

"I was watching your wife earlier", says Santana, fixing her eyes on Quinn, who feels strangely light-headed. "I definitely can't do all that."

Finn gazes at Quinn fondly. "Oh, no one can. But I can teach you some steps."

Santana shrugs and glances at Sam, who nods, and grabs Quinn's hand with a smile. "If Finn will let me borrow his lovely wife."

Finn nods and makes his way to the dance floor with Santana, where they laugh and trip over her dress and each other's feet. Quinn watches Finn, but mostly Santana. She's built differently from the women she knows, muscle and curve instead of bone. And she wonders, as she dances with Sam, why his wife doesn't know how to dance when he's so graceful.

Santana's name is all she hears all night, the hushed voices of her friends in her ear. Black to a charity gala? Whiskey?, and, in spite of it all, Quinn wonders if they don't all feel the way she does, like she has lost something tonight.

In her room, Millie helps her slip off her dress, heavy where it felt light. Her curls have fallen flat, she has a headache and she doesn't feel so beautiful anymore. She pulls on her pajamas as Millie gingerly places the dress inside it's travel case. She usually donates them to charity, would never wear the same thing twice, but this time she lays a hand on Millie's arm and asks her to leave it. For some reason, she can't bear the thought of giving it away.


	3. Chapter 3

She's up at six, always, though she doesn't own an alarm clock. She tugs on her running shoes and slips into her sweats, not bothering to be quiet because nothing will wake up Sam, not until he decides, three or four hours later, that it's unavoidable.

In the kitchen, she cuts up some fresh fruit and makes orange juice. She sets everything on a tray and takes it up to Jaeger's room, where she leaves it outside the door. Her son, like his father, is a late riser.

It's freezing outside, it might even be snowing, but she's running so fast she can't really tell. It is her first day running in this neighborhood, the best way to become acquainted, although the houses surrounding her are so similar to one another that she fears she might get lost. There isn't a soul out this early, not even the sun, yet, but she feels incredibly awake.  
.................................

The smell of eggs and bacon makes Finn roll out of bed immediately, groaning as he glances at the clock. Quinn keeps her sleeping mask on as she turns her languid body in the general direction of her husband. "What is it?"

"It's late."

"No it isn't, we just went to bed."

"We came home like at three, hon, remember?"

Quinn sits up suddenly. The mask falls off her eyes. "The gala was yesterday. I... I thought I had dreamed it all."

"Was it a good dream?"

His wife doesn't answer, and his eyebrows knit together as he looks at her. "You didn't have a good time?"

"Not as much as you did."

He frowns. "I don't recall having had a particularly good time."

"You were dancing with that girl all night."

"What girl?"

"Sam Evans' wife."

Finn looks mildly surprised. "You're right. I'd forgotten."

"Yeah, right."

Finn crawls on the bed until he's hovering over his wife. "Is that why you're upset?"

"I'm not upset."

"Quinn... you're not serious, are you? You know she's not my type."

"What's your type?"

"You. You're my type."

She rolls her eyes, but starts to smile. Finn takes it as a good sign, jumps off the bed and starts changing into his running gear. He raises his eyebrows at his wife. "Shouldn't you be getting up, too?"

"What for?"

"Your dance class? I bet Daisy's been up for a while."

Quinn groans and falls back into the bed. "Crap. I don't want to, Finn. I'm so tired."

"You can always call and cancel. I'm sure they'll understand."

"And I'm sure Daisy won't."

Finn shrugs. "Give her the benefit of the doubt."  
.............................................

She watches the neighborhood waking up as the sun rises. Even in all her apathy, she has to admit there is something to the view. She's on her way back when she runs into Finn. She doesn't recognize him, running past her, but he calls out to her as he slows down.

"Morning."

She stops dead in her tracks, because even though she's seen other runners this morning, not a single one has spoken to her, not even those she was introduced to last night. Then she realizes the man speaking is Finn, and it all makes sense.

"Hey, you."

"Hi."

Finn clears his throat. "How long you been out here?"

"Since six."

He raises his eyebrows. "You're hard-core. Where's Sam?"

Santana barely stops herself from sniggering. "Oh, Sam never gets out of bed before ten. Why do you think he never got as good as you?"

Finn stares at her, wondering if she's serious.

"Your wife in bed, too?" She asks out of politeness, not because she really wants to know.

"Probably. She was supposed to volunteer at the community center, but I think she was too tired."

Santana nods and bends over to retie her shoelaces, ready to get going. "OK. Well, I'll see you around."

"Santana, I-"

"Oh, that's right, I won't. You guys are leaving for the game tomorrow." She gives him a quick hug."Good luck."

"You're so calm about it."

"I'm used to him not being around." She could care less, and Finn feels her earning his respect.

"Santana... when Sam told me you were moving here I was hoping.. you and Quinn could be friends."

It's hard to look at Finn's frank face and say no, so she doesn't, not in so many words.

"Finn, that's what you want, and I'm sure Sam expects the same, but... is it what your wife wants?"

He sighs. "You don't have to go out of your way or anything, but..."

"If I see her, I'll be nice."

The smile on her face is rare, plastered, and it makes Finn want to laugh. "I'd settle for civil."

"Civil it is."  
...............................................

By the time she makes it out of bed, Daisy and Willow are already awake, having breakfast and watching Dora the Explorer in the living room. Daisy is wearing her favorite tutu, and Millie has pulled her dirty blond hair into a tight bun. She bounces off the couch as soon as she sees her mother.

"Time yet?"

Quinn sighs as she sits next to Willow, who tenses up. "We're not going to class today, sweetheart."

"Why not?"

It's no use, explaining things to Daisy, because she won't understand, so she decides she might as well lie. "Because I'm sick."

There is a silence in the living room and then Willow gets up. "You don't look very sick to me."

She storms off, towards her room. Daisy takes a long, hard look at her mother and begins crying. "You're not sick, mommy."

"Daisy, baby, I really don't feel good."

But Daisy, who only ever throws ballet related tantrums, lunges onto Quinn's lap and begins sobbing with abandon as Dora ballerina waltzes loudly across the TV screen. Quinn feels herself choking up too, her tears falling hot onto Daisy's hair.

She doesn't know how much time has passed when the sound of the TV being turned off wakes her. It's Elliott, who is sitting down by her feet. He looks so sorry for her that she can hardly stand it.

"Want me to paint your toenails, mommy?"

It was what they did, when Elliott was little, one of the few ways Quinn had found to bond with her son. He liked colors, all shades and numbers of them, and Quinn did too. It had become their ritual, until Elliott grew too old to like it anymore, or at least, Quinn thought he had.

He comes back with a bright shade of violet, he always did like his purples, and then glances at her feet. She painted her toenails just yesterday, a pale turquoise that perfectly matched her dress for the gala.

"Your nails don't really need painting, mommy."

"I think they do, Elliott."

"But they look fine. And I like that color."

Quinn nods. She liked it, too, the day she chose it, but now she can't stand it. "No. Paint them."

He shrugs and begins pouring acetone over her toes. He watches, melancholy, as the color leaks down her feet. "It was a pretty color."

Quinn feels tears begin to roll down her cheeks again, and suddenly, her whole body is wracked with sobs she can't contain, Daisy stirring on her lap.

"No, baby. It was an ugly, ugly color."  
.........................................................

Sam is so love with the idea of Jaeger that his life revolves around his son more than it does around anything else, even his career. Santana thinks she might be the only reason Jaeger is not a spoiled brat. She has refused to fawn over him, and the only things she ever buys him are books and educational toys. Maybe because of this, he's turned out a reasonable child, with his mother's build and features and his father's pale hair and eyes. He always says what he thinks, and Santana loves that about him, because where other boys raised like him are timid and scared, her son is fearless.

His room is twice the size of theirs, a playroom and bedroom combined. There is a wall for rock-climbing, an indoor aquarium and a tree-house full of books. Everything that Jaeger has ever even expressed mild curiosity about is present in the room. It is so much fun that Santana spends a good share of her time there, and Jaeger doesn't mind. They are each other's favorite playmates, because for all Sam tries, Santana is still her son's best friend.

When she gets home, Jaeger's dishes are neatly stacked next to the kitchen sink. She examines them and comes to the conclusion that he attempted to wash them, but, having never washed anything in his life, failed miserably. She laughs out loud and tells herself she'll have to teach him, one of these days.

She makes her way down to Jaeger's room. She'd much rather be there than with Sam, who is probably still asleep. Or not, she thinks as she hears the loud music blaring from behind Jaeger's closed door. She enters without knocking and sees her son in front of the TV, playing Guitar Hero. He acknowledges her with a small nod when she sits on the floor to watch him play.

Metallica. The music Jaeger had listened to since he was in the womb. Pink Floyd, Black Sabbath, Nirvana, all of Santana's favorites. He's a natural with the guitar, but then again, he's natural at everything, her pride and joy, though she hides it well.

Jaeger finishes his solo with a flourish and Santana claps as the scores come up on the screen. They're nearly perfect, but he seems disappointed.

"I really thought I was gonna get it this time."

"Maybe this just isn't your song."

He rolls his eyes at her. "Every song is my song, mom."

"Hmmm. Can I play?"

Jaeger's eyes light up. He loves competing with Santana. She home-schooled him for a part of his life, and since then, they have made everything into a competition. Santana is pleasantly surprised by how often she loses. She doesn't have to let Jaeger win, he's merciless. They're such fierce competitors that winning often proves a struggle for both of them. There is only one thing Jaeger is decidedly better at than his mother.

"Let's do Dance Dance Revolution."

Santana groans. She hates Dance Dance Revolution, or dancing of any kind. She has two left feet, which were, luckily, not inherited by Jaeger, who has been in ballet lessons since he was three. Sometimes, she considers taking video of him and putting up online. She's seen videos of kids who don't hold a candle to him. But a huge part of her life is dedicated to making sure this kid isn't spoiled rotten, and since this doesn't seem to be one of Sam's concerns, she knows she has to keep herself from celebrating her son's achievements too much.  
.................................

The next morning, Quinn really does feel sick. As soon as she opens her eyes, she knows why. Finn's open suitcase is lying next to the bed, everything packed neatly. Her eyes fill with tears, but in the back of her mind there is guilt, that she's never packed a suitcase for Finn, that she doesn't know what he takes and what he leaves.

The suitcase in the middle of the room means he doesn't have to say anything, because even after all this time, he still can't find the words to tell his wife he's leaving her alone with three children they can barely manage between the two of them.

When he comes in the room, Quinn throws his arms around him and sobs into his neck. "I don't want you to go." It's not the first time she's ever done this, but it's still unusual enough for Finn to be alarmed. He pushes her away and looks into her eyes. "Quinn, honey, what's wrong?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to ruin the gala for you."

"But you just came home."

"And I'll be back just as quickly."

"It never feels quick."

She throws herself face down on their bed. Finn picks her up and brushes the hair out of her face. "Quinn, listen to me. You've got to get yourself together. How do you expect Elliott and Daisy to react if they see you like this?"

"Does Willow know?"

"Oh, she's known for weeks."

Of course she has. Quinn wipes the tears from her cheeks, trying not to rub her eyes. She can only imagine how swollen they must be.

Finn sets her down on the carpet and kisses the top of her head. "Now, you're gonna go and have a nice breakfast, I told Millie to make you a salad, and then you're gonna go to the gym. You haven't been in a while. When you come back, I'll be gone."

Quinn nods. The gym's one of her hobbies, a hobby for all the football wives, but she'd been so distracted with the gala that it's been weeks since she's gone. It's the last thing she feels like doing, but Finn's asking her to and he hardly ever asks her for anything. "Are you gonna say goodbye to the children?"

He shakes his head. "Just Willow. And don't worry, I'll tell her to talk to them."

In these moments, Willow's actually more useful than her mother, better at comforting her siblings, better at helping Finn, better at handling life in general, though Quinn would never admit it to anyone but her husband.

She hugs him tightly one last time and then heads into the kitchen. Millie looks at her, but not for too long, and pushes her salad across the counter, towards her.  
......................................

The gym is eerily silent when she walks in. It's no more empty than usual, but for once, none of the women are staring at her or whispering to one another. They actually seem like they're there just to work out this time. Santana plugs in her earphones, and the world disappears. She doesn't think back to it again until she's in the locker room, usually packed with women doing their hair in front of the foggy mirrors, but deserted today, save for her. It's almost, she thinks, like no one wants to leave.

She takes a quick shower, and when she comes out, there is a woman sitting on one of the benches, her head in her hands. The sound of Santana's footsteps startles her, and she looks up. A cell phone falls from her lap and onto the floor, splitting open. The battery lands by Santana's feet, and she picks it up without thinking. She looks into the woman's eyes, amber like sunshine. She would know her just by her irises, even when they're tinged with red.

"Are you all right?"

Quinn takes the battery from her. "Yes. I'm fine."

She tries to put the phone back together, but it's clear she has no idea how. Santana takes it from her gently and snaps everything into place.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Are you sure you're OK?"

"Are you?"

She doesn't stop, to think about what she means. Girls begin coming in, but Santana ignores them and gives Quinn back her phone. "Listen, I talked to Finn yesterday, and he-"

Quinn looks up at her in disbelief. Somewhere, somebody gasps, and then they're all staring at her.

"Why would my husband be talking to you on his last day here?"

It's a dangerous question, whether answered or not. "His last day? You're acting like he's dead."

From behind Santana, Kitty's voice interrupts them. "So it doesn't matter to you, that your husband's gone?"

All of sudden, she understands everything, the red eyes, the question. She turns to Quinn, incredulous. "That's what this is all about? Finn leaving for the game?"

She very much doubts Quinn's ever slapped anybody, but she looks like she wants to, now. Santana feels slightly sorry for her, and slowly steps away. She heads to her own locker, feeling a little ridiculous because she just had an argument in her bathrobe. The girls watch her, but their interest soon dies and they all exit, escorting Quinn, until there is just one left.

Santana turns around and finds Tina staring at her in disbelief. She hasn't seen her since the day of the gala, and she looks even more crestfallen than she did then, if that's possible.

Santana shrugs. "I don't get what I said."

"You brought it up. Everyone tries to not to, at least not for a couple of days after they leave."

So that's why the silence, why she stopped being the center of attention.

"Jesus, they act like they're army wives."

By the look on Tina's face, she probably didn't welcome the reminder either.

"Oh, no, Tina. You, too?"

Her eyes well-up. "It's hard when he's here, imagine when he's not." She looks up at her. "Aren't you sad?"

Santana shakes her head. "I'm used to being alone. Sometimes when Sam is here... I wish he wasn't."

For the others, especially Quinn, it's hard not to take Santana's insouciance as a personal offense, but while Tina finds her differences shocking, they don't feel like a threat. It only makes sense that if fifty percent of marriages are unhappy, she was bound, sooner or later, to meet a woman who belonged to the other half.


	4. Chapter 4

They have dinner at her parents' every night Finn is away, because Quinn can't stand the thought of sitting at the head of the table, alone, with her children watching her.

At her parent's, she feels small again, like she's stepped years back, into adolescence or maybe childhood, and her offspring are her siblings. Her dad sends the driver to their house to pick them up at five-thirty sharp, but Quinn can tell they all think it's a little absurd, even the children.

At the table, Willow and her grandmother talk animatedly. Judy doesn't mind Willow, mostly because she blames Quinn for the way her granddaughter turned out, which makes two of them.

In the foyer, Elliott and Daisy are playing with Daisy's Barbie dolls, a present from grandpa Russel. Daisy is his favorite, maybe because she's the one looks most like him. It's Elliott who doesn't look like anyone in particular, brown haired, brown eyed and round faced. Quinn's son is soft, like she thinks she might be if she always ate whatever she wanted.

"Quinn?"

Her train of thought is interrupted by her mother, who is looking at her pointedly.

"Yeah?"

"I was saying I'm going to need Puck tomorrow."

"What for?"

She even sounds like a teenager, a pouting one, and Judy raises her eyebrows at her. "I have errands to run, Quinn. And, really, this whole thing is ridiculous. Not knowing how to drive. At your age."

"You don't know how to drive."

Judy dismisses her with a wave of her hand. "I'm from another time."

Her father chimes in. "Quinn, why don't you ask Finn to hire you a driver?"

Quinn sighs. "He's still hoping I'll learn."

"Maybe you should, then, sweetheart."

Judy yawns. "Anyway. I think you can miss the gym for a day."

"No, I can't. You don't understand."

"Would you care to explain it to us?"

But how can she, how can she say she can't be at home if he's not there? Instead, she grabs her purse and gets up.

"We'll be going now. Come on, Willow."

She heads to the foyer without stopping. There, she finds Daisy strewn across the floor, asleep, and Elliott quietly brushing one of her Barbie's hair. Irritated, Quinn snatches it away from him and tries to gather Daisy and her toys into her arms. Outside, Puck is already waiting to take them back.  
........................................

She feels like a caged tiger in that house, knowing now that without Puck, there's no way out. She's too embarrassed to ask anybody for a ride, or to arrive to the gym, as further proof of her uselessness, in a cab.

Millie watches her pacing around the kitchen, and finally asks is something is wrong. It seems so trivial, but to Millie nothing that has to do with her ever does, so Quinn tells her. The kids are in school, Millie always walks them there when Finn is gone, and there is nothing here to distract her. The gym is too far to walk, and Millie bites her lip thoughtfully. "If you want, my boyfriend can give you a ride. I'll call him."

It seems like a good idea at the time, mostly because Millie is so gracious in her offering. She's obviously not thinking straight, not thinking things through until Millie is waving her off and she's sitting in an old Impala next to a young. tattooed man who doesn't look too happy to be there. They drive in silence for the first three minutes, until he says "Fuck this," and turns up the volume on his stereo to hiphop that is much more hardcore than anything Finn listens to. He obviously has no qualms about a lady listening to this kind of music. Quinn has never heard so many curse words strung together in her life, and realizes, like a bolt of lightning, how sheltered she's been. She wonders how Millie puts up with this, not just the music but everything, the car, the man, the reckless driving in this bumpy road that is not her usual way to the gym.

Maybe he's lost, she thinks, and wonders if she should say something but then thinks better of it. They're in a part of town she doesn't know, but by the look of it, he must know it well. They drive in silence down the road for about ten minutes and then Quinn asks herself when the appropriate time to jump out of a car when you think you're being kidnapped is. She tries to calm down, but they should be at the gym by now, and then, in the middle of nowhere, Millie's boyfriend stops the car and gets out. He walks into a rickety old house, and Quinn is about to open her door and jump out, only she has to roll down the window and open it from the outside because it won't open from the inside, when he comes back. He gets in the car, beer can in hand, and continues driving, not before shooting Quinn a weird look for rolling down her window in the middle of winter.

She takes out her phone and thinks of texting Kitty, but how will she explain? It was stupid, getting a ride from a man she doesn't know, a man who looks like this. She can't call her parents either, and it dawns on her, how alone she is.

There are only two people she can think of texting with the truth, and one of them is Millie, whom she's always truthful with. Quinn knows, because she's been told, that she's smarter than Millie, that Millie's just a maid who probably didn't graduate high school, but she very seldom really feels that way. It's Millie who always knows what to do, who has a solution for everything, who is calm and efficient in a way Quinn doesn't think she will ever be. But right now, asking her for help is out of the question, because how exactly do you tell a woman that you think her boyfriend is kidnapping you?

The only other person who comes to mind is Puck. Except that he can't help now, he's with her mother, and she's the last person Quinn would ever want to find out about this. Just the thought of dying here, in this neighborhood, scares her more because of what her mother would say than because she's really afraid of being dead. This is what makes her decide to text Puck in the end. She wants, above all, to make sure her body is never found if she does end up here. She sticks her hand inside her purse, trying to text without being noticed.

To: Puck

I think I'm being kidnapped. Don't tell my mother.

From: Puck

Quinn? Where are you? Who are you with?

To: Puck

I have no idea, and it's a long story.

From: Puck

You see any street signs?

To: Puck

Corner of Boone and Scott.

From: Puck

That's near where I live.

Quinn takes a look around. She would have never imagined. Puck, in his permanent suit and tie, looks like he belongs in the Fabray estate, and it never occurred to her that he might belong somewhere else, too.

To: Puck

Good. Then you can come find my body and make sure no one ever knows I died here.

From: Puck

I could tell Mrs. Fabray I have a family emergency and come get you.

Except Judy doesn't believe in family emergencies, and there's really no point in getting Puck fired if she's going to die anyway.

To: Puck

No.

She thinks she should do something else, maybe write some farewell words to her children, but she doesn't think Willow would appreciate getting that kind of text, and Elliott doesn't have a phone. Her heart sinks a little when she thinks about him, and she regrets not getting him the iphone he asked for during Christmas. He'd be such a big comfort.

Her iphone starts ringing, and she sees Puck' name light up the screen. Panicked, she turns to look at Millie's boyfriend, who is so into his rap he isn't even looking at her. She tries to hang up, but instead ends up turning up the volume all the way up. She drops the phone, panicked, and as she bends down to pick it up, feels the car come to a stop. She sits back up slowly, certain this is it, and when she looks up, she finds herself staring at the facade of the gym.

She buries her head in her hands and almost cries with relief, but instead turns to the man next to her and says thank you, and she is truly so grateful, not for the ride, but because he didn't hurt her. He doesn't say anything, just looks at her oddly. She gets out of the car before she can do something stupid, like kiss his hands. He drives off, speeding through the parking lot with his loud music blasting and Quinn's phone rings again. It's Puck.

"I'm coming to get you."

"No, Puck, I'm fine. I'm at the gym."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I swear."

"You okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Everything's fine. I'll explain later."

But they both know she won't, she doesn't have to, that's why she called him. He will forget about this, put it away in the same place he put away the time he picked her up from the hospital and held her in the car for thirty minutes, trying, and failing, to absorb the unfathomable grief in her tiny body.

An SUV is beeping at her, she's standing in the middle of the parking lot, and inside it she sees Kitty, giving her a quizzical look. She rolls down the window and points to Millie's boyfriend's car, leaving the parking lot.

"What was that?"

"Don't even ask."

Kitty opens the passenger door, and Quinn jumps in. "Are you cheating on Finn?"

"Not funny, Kitty. I thought I was about to be kidnapped."

They park, and Quinn helps Kitty get her gym bag out of the car. "Quinn, why would you even-"

"Kitty, just do me a favor, OK?"

"Yeah."

"Give me a ride home when we're done."  
.....................................

It isn't until later that she realizes that she has successfully managed to go on half the day without thinking of Finn. Of course, that might be due to the fact that she thought she was about to die, but shockingly enough, Finn didn't flash once through her head. It worries her a little, and the instinctual guilt kicks in. Why wasn't her husband in what she thought were going to be her last thoughts? She shakes it off. She was thinking about her children, a mother always thinks about her children first.

As usual, Puck drives them home after dinner at her parents', and then drops her and Daisy off at the community center for Quinn's ballet class.

She's been volunteering there for almost three years now, started right after Daisy was born. She teaches a couple of dance classes, but beginner's ballet is her favorite, a class full of toddlers and kindergarteners just like Daisy, who had been coming to class with Quinn since before she could walk.

All of the girls there are either her friend's daughters or Daisy's playmates, most of whom she has known since before birth.

It would be stupid, to say this is the highlight of Quinn's life, but sometimes she thinks it might be, or at least it used to. She has never felt like she's very good at anything, but sometimes she thinks she might be good at this, and if she didn't have children, she would be content to eat, drink and sleep dance the way Daisy does. She has taught Finn and Elliott to dance too, waltzes and everything they might ever need to know in a social setting. Only Willow hasn't wanted to learn, to her it's just another one of the trivial, frivolous things in Quinn's life, and she's not interested.

"One, two, three, plie, four, five, six, turn around."

The newness of it all, however, soon wears off, and Quinn wonders if every new and exciting part of her life is destined to be absorbed into her daily routine, therefore losing about ninety percent of its initial appeal.

None of the toddlers can really keep up with her, and she doesn't expect them to. Instead, they just admire her form and grace, Daisy more than anyone, as they try to copy her. When they get out it's already dark, and plenty of people offer her rides, but Quinn likes pushing Daisy's stroller through the couple of blocks it takes them to get home.  
.....................................

There is only one thing in all of Jaeger's room that is of supreme interest to Santana, and that is his microscope. He has one fit for an adult, which Santana, convinced of the prodigious nature of her son, bought him at the age of four. She had surprised herself by getting it, and Sam as well, he had frowned upon it and accused her of getting it as a present to herself.

Afraid it was true, she kept her hands off it for years, never forgetting it was there, like a glowing light tempting her into Jaeger's room, but managing to keep the feelings this piece of plastic and metal was giving her buried within.

It wasn't until they moved into the new house that she allowed herself to touch it. Jaeger only played with it occasionally, never as interested in it as Santana had hoped he'd be, thought he had taught himself how to use it, as both Sam and Santana had refused to help.

She had taken it out of its box, telling herself she was only making sure it still worked. The truth is, she was so frantic to look at something that she bit the inside of her cheek until she drew blood, which she placed eagerly on a slide. It looked just as she remembered, and she sighed with relief. Next came saliva, her hair, the dirt under her fingernails, and anything she could get her hands on, feeling again like that child who almost thirty years ago had discovered what sand really looked like when magnified and had been forever hooked.

She had counted the days until Sam left and Jaeger started school. Then, every morning, after she dropped him off at school, she went into his room to look at samples she gathered during the day, only allowing herself ten or fifteen minutes. As the days went by, everything became more complex and comfortable, and she found herself losing track of time as she jotted things down on pen and paper. She had to tear herself away from it all to go to the gym, to cook dinner, to try to lead the normal life that had been promised to her if she left it all behind.

But the problem was, it wasn't behind. It was on the tips of her fingers, on the roots of her hair. How could she say no to looking at life when it was everywhere, in every dust particle, in every dead cell of skin, when you looked through eyes that zoomed into everything, and lost focus of the rest?  
........................................

Game night, Quinn puts the kids to bed early, around five-thirty, and locks herself in her room. Willow prances about the house, slamming doors and turning on the TV as loud as it will go, like she wants to make sure everybody knows that it's her father out there tonight and that Quinn isn't showing him the respect he deserves. She's ordered pizza and made popcorn, having the sort of celebration Quinn knows they should all be having together. And yet she can't bring herself to do it.

Still in her pajamas, she brings a chair as close to the TV as she can get, and watches the camera zooming in on Sam's face. It's a decisive game, for him, and his nerves are palpable even though the screen. Then the camera pans out and she spots Finn's backside, which she'd know even without the letters and numbers. Hudson. She remembers feeling so thrilled, the first time she spotted his jersey after they got married, knowing she was a Hudson now, too.

In spite of what anybody might think, she knows the game in and out, ever since Finn joined the team in high school. She knows every rule, every move. Finn loves showing her off to his teammates, because most of their wives are so over football, but to Quinn, it's her life, it's her husband, it's her children. It's just that lately, it's gotten increasingly hard to watch.

This is the first game she has sat down to actually watch in its entirety after what feels like a long time. It was always nerve-wracking, but she finds that in the time she's been away, it's suddenly not, because Finn has gotten so good he makes it look easy.

After the first quarter, she finds her eyes inexplicably drawn to Sam Evans, more so than to her husband. Maybe because he's the underdog, maybe because she senses he needs more support than Finn, who has everyone at his feet. She shuts off the TV before the game is over, right after they bench Sam, puts on her sleeping mask and takes some sleeping pills. Maybe tomorrow, Finn will be home.


	5. Chapter 5

The room is shut tightly, curtains drawn. The air inside is stuffy and smells like lavender, and it's hot and dark even though it's only two in the afternoon. Finn approaches the bed, where his barely-there wife is strewn across a pile of pillows, her body limp and flowy in a pale peach nightgown. He lies down next to her and kisses her cheek. She's fever warm and her cheeks are flushed, but she's breathing calmly and peacefully.

"Quinn?"

She hums a little, and then begins smiling, she knows who this is, she can smell him. Finn rolls her sleeping mask down gently and rolls her over until there is a hint of sunlight shining across her face. She won't open her eyes, but won't let go of him, her arms are wrapped around his shoulders and she's planting kisses and running her fingers all over his face. He laughs and feels her so warm for a second he's worried, until he takes off her nightgown and feels her stomach cool and flat.

Later, they both lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, and Quinn finally opens her eyes, which seem to light up the whole world, or at least Finn's.

"Babe?"

"Yeah?"

"I missed you."

"I missed you too, hon."

"I was thinking..."

"Yeah?"

"Do you think I could get a driver?"

"Again, Quinn? I thought you said you were gonna learn."

"I am, I promise, it's just for right now."

"I feel like you're giving up."

"I'm not, Finn, it's just gonna take a while."

"Well, you definitely won't learn if you have somebody else doing it for you."

Quinn hates being a disappointment to her husband, so she says nothing more. Driving was something her parents had warned her against since she was very young, almost as if afraid she would be one of those rebellious girls who learn to drive at a young age and are never seen again. It was also something her mother didn't do, and didn't seem to need to do, so Quinn always assumed paying someone to drive you around was the most natural thing in the world.

Finn had been trying to teach her since they were in high school, but then he had gone off to college and had been so busy with football and classes that he never found the time. Now, in spite of his job, he was willing to make it, but Quinn found in herself a new fear that had grown with years of avoiding it. It wasn't something that she could explain to Finn because it seemed so stupid, he just thought she liked the idea of having a driver, or else that she was just plain lazy or too stupid to understand how a steering wheel worked. Whatever it was that he thought, it was probably better than the actual truth, more proof that she was indeed the defective wife she was convinced she was, not as readily apparent as in the case of Tina Cohen-Chang, but plain in her own eyes, in Willow's eyes, in Judy's eyes. All she could bear, except not being good enough in Finn's eyes.

...........................

She doesn't know how she falls asleep again, or what day it is when she wakes up, only that there is smoke in her room and the nauseating smell of steak all around, and Finn is gone. She practically has to throw herself off the bed to wake up, and she crawls around on the carpet until she finds her fuzzy pink slippers, which she slides onto her feet with care.

In the kitchen, she judges the time to be around noon, because Millie's frying Finn's regular lunch meat and the sun seems to be hitting the kitchen skylight just so.

"Where's my husband?", she asks Millie, trying to fight off a yawn.

Millie smiles a little and only says, "In the driveway."

Quinn frowns. Why would Finn be in the driveway? The only time he was ever out there was during those first days he tried to play catch with Elliott, a pastime which quickly ended when Finn realized how much his son hated it.

It doesn't seem like Millie is going to contribute anymore, so Quinn heads outside, one foot in front of the other, to find a brand new car, midnight blue, that she's never seen before. The color seems a little off for Finn, he usually prefers reds, until she sees it isn't her husband behind the wheel, but Willow. Willow, reversing out of the driveway at full speed like she had been doing it since the day she was born. And maybe she had, Quinn thinks, remembering how Finn had sat her on his lap as he drove, when she was barely a toddler, his huge hands over her tiny ones on the steering wheel, maybe hoping to teach her that this was normal, a game, so she wouldn't turn out like her mother.

She feels a pang of jealousy as she walks towards the car, maybe because she had thought the car was for her, maybe because Willow is about to upstage her on the largest of stages, once again. Finn sees her and waves her over, Willow doesn't even turn to look her way.

"Quinn, look what I got."

That's one of the things she loves about Finn, how in spite of the fact that he's rich and a star, he can still manage to get excited about anything, never growing jaded as his other teammates had. She wishes she could share in his joy.

"Yeah, I see."

"Do you like it?"

"Does Willow?"

"Of course, she picked it out."

"Did she."

It isn't a question, because they all know the answer, and for a second, Finn looks worried.

"Quinn, it isn't-"

"It isn't what, her birthday?"

She tries to keep it light, but Finn knows her too well.

"It isn't really for her. I just thought... since you needed someone to drive you around, I thought Willow could learn and then she can take you wherever you need to go when I'm not here. And when you learn, you can drive it."

"Oh. Is she going to driver's ed?"

"No. I'm gonna teach her myself. I think after today she'll have the hang of it."

Quinn nods, and, feeling slightly defeated, walks back into the house. Millie already has her kale smoothie ready, and hands it to her without comment, until Quinn says, "I guess it is a nice car."

Millie nods sagely. "Your car, soon."

"Oh, don't count on it."

"Why?"

"Willow's not gonna give it up. Plus, I'm still not sure I'll learn that quickly. Willow's going to have to drive me around forever. I bet she'll be thrilled."

"Maybe... it's a good opportunity for you and Miss Willow to become friends."

Quinn mulls this over as she chews her thick juice. It sounds far too simple, but it could be a start.

..................................

When she comes home from the gym, she finds Finn at the dining room table, amidst a scattering of what looks like pink paper, fabric and ribbon, writing with surprisingly ornate penmanship. She has a seat at the other end of the table, seven chairs down from him.

"What are you doing?"

He looks up at her and smiles. "Working on the invitations for Daisy's party."

Quinn brings a hand up to her forehead, and would sit down, if she wasn't already. "Shoot."

"It's fine. We got everything under control."

By we he means him and Millie, and possibly Willow, and Quinn wonders how she ever complains about having to raise her kids on her own, about Finn being away, when it seems like she's always getting rescued from her responsibilities.

"It's not fine, Finn. I forgot my daughter's birthday."

"It's still three days away, Quinn. Plenty of time to hand-deliver the invitations. And I'm sure you wouldn't have forgotten on the actual day."

"I'm just glad she's too young to remember."

She picks up one of the envelopes Finn is working on. It's addressed to Samuel and Santana Evans, Rosewood Drive.

She makes a face. "Ugh. Do we have to?"

"Quinn, be nice."

"Her last name is not even Evans."

"I thought it would be rude to point it out, but..." He hands her a blank envelope. "You can make another one."

Quinn takes the pen from him and writes another. Samuel Evans and Santana Lopez-Avner, Rosewood Drive. Finn glances at it. "Is the Avner really necessary? You're just doing it to piss her off."

"No, you know what would?" She grabs another envelope and writes again. Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Evans, Rosewood Drive.

Finn sighs, but takes the envelope and stuffs an invitation and stuff it inside. Quinn smiles.

"Who's gonna deliver this? Millie?"

"I thought you could do it."

"I don't even want her to come."

"OK. I guess I can give it to Sam."

It's just like her husband, to not be embarrassed about handing a pink envelope to a teammate in a room full of guys.  
........................................

The pink envelope on the kitchen counter looks slightly foreboding. It's addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Evans, and Santana shudders just to think of what's in it. She's thinking about tossing it into the garbage disposal when Sam comes in the room and catches her looking at it.

"Oh, yeah, Finn gave me that today."

"What's it for?"

Sam shrugs. "Open it."

Santana shakes her head and hands it to him. "You do it."

He rolls his eyes and wants to tell her to grow up, but bites his tongue and slices the envelope open with his paper knife.

A beautifully crafted ballet tutu made with pink tulle falls out, and Santana thinks, of course, nobody else could have made this but Quinn Hudson.

"It's Daisy's birthday", Sam says, like not any of this needs explaining.

"Who's Daisy?"

"One of their children, obviously."

"I didn't even know they had kids."

"They do. Three."

"So... we're going?"

"Of course we're going. And make sure to get her a nice present. None of that cheap shit you get Jaeger. We don't need the Hudsons thinking we're destitute."

They can hardly think we're destitute when we live in a house like this, Santana thinks. Sam had felt at home right away, because it reminded him of the house where he grew up, but to Santana it was foreign. She had grown up in an upscale apartment in Chicago, but was slowly learning there were different types of upscale, and this house definitely was, large and full of windows and decorated as if King Louis the Great might visit at any time.

"Yeah, sure. I'll get her something."

"Take Jaeger with you to pick it out. At least we know his taste is up to par."  
..................................

They go to the fanciest mall in town, because Santana can't figure out where to get the present Sam is expecting, but at least there, she knows it won't be cheap. She lets Jaeger guide her through it, he's been here plenty, with his new friends from school and with Sam. He takes a detour through the food court, which Santana sees right through, but pretends to be spontaneous anyway.

"You want an ice cream cone?"

His face lights up. "You won't tell dad?"

"Do I ever?"

They are all into organic eating. Even Jaeger, at his age, is a vocal supporter. Sam had insisted his child be raised that way, and Santana, for once, had agreed. But she didn't see the harm in allowing Jaeger to enjoy junk food every once in a while.

At the food court, Santana confesses she has no idea what to get Daisy. "I don't even know how old she's turning."

"The invitation didn't say?"

"I didn't see it."

"Oh. Well, I think she must be turning three."

Santana raises her eyebrows, impressed, but not for a moment doubting her son's word.

"I've seen her in the Toddlers C group."

"So, you actually know who she is?"

"I know who everyone is."

"Oh. OK. What's she like?"

"Real cute. She smiles a lot, and she has chubby cheeks and dimples and her hair is funny, 'cause it's cut like she's a model, but she's only a little girl."

"And her eyes?"

Jaeger looks at her weirdly. "Her eyes are brown. Oh, and she always wears a ballet tutu."

"No wonder you like her."

"Her brother's in my class."

"Are you friends with him?"

"No. He's quiet."

"What's his name?"

"Elliott. I tried talking to him once, but he didn't answer."

"Was he mean to you?"

"No. I think he's just shy."

She grabs a napkin and wipes some chocolate off of Jaeger's face. "So, what do you think we should get Daisy?"

He hums pensively. "I'm not sure. But I know where we can get it."

"Where?"

"The toy store."

Santana should have expected this, but thought her son would come up with a more original answer, and is beginning to think the only reason he wants to go there is to get something for himself, only he probably already owns everything at that store anyway. Once they get there, however, she has to admit he was on the right track. While she had thought about getting Daisy a dress or one of those hideous collectible dolls, the stuff at this store is so much more fun, and educational, too. She finds herself pining for a few of the chemistry sets, and lets Jaeger run around the store searching for the perfect gift while she examines them more closely.

"I got it, mom."

She turns and sees Jaeger coming down the aisle, carrying a box almost as large as him.

"What is that?"

But Jaeger doesn't answer and instead proceeds to set it on the floor. It's a build-your-own-dinosaur model.

"Uh, I was thinking more along the lines of a stuffed animal or something."

"No, this is awesome, she'll love it."

"Jaeger, are you sure this isn't something you want and not something you think she would want?"

"I already have, like, three of these."

"But this doesn't look like the kind of toy a girl who wears a tutu would-"

"Do I look like the kind of boy who likes ballet?"

Jaeger often does this, leaves her speechless with a clarity of thought belonging to someone much older, a clarity that she thinks sometimes not even she has. In the end, it's part that she doesn't have the heart to say no when he searched so diligently and part that the model it's actually pretty cool once she takes a look at it that makes her decide to get it. She has it wrapped, with Hello Kitty gift wrap, so Sam won't know what it is, and hopes Jaeger won't think to tell him, even though as far as she's concerned, it meets the main requirement. It was anything but cheap.


	6. Chapter 6

It is the third ballet birthday party they've had in a row, the first at Quinn's insistence, the other two, Daisy's choice. This one is, of course, last minute, and Quinn, even when she found out about it, hadn't had the heart to help put it together. They had everything they needed, from previous years, and though Daisy won't remember all the repeated decorations, Quinn feels slightly guilty to think that their guests might.

She doesn't even need to tell Millie to make the cake, when she gets up that morning, it's already underway, a giant ballet slipper. The year before, it had been Angelina Ballerina, and before, cupcakes shaped like tutus. Only Millie could put so much love into a party she's seen repeated for the past three years and still try to make it different, and Quinn knows that she will forever credit her and Finn with this one.

An hour before their guests are scheduled to arrive, she goes to Willow's room, to check on her outfit for the party. She doesn't find her there, but in Daisy's ballet and My Little Pony decorated room, helping her little sister with her hair, and wearing a surprisingly appropriate outfit, white jeans and a pink tee. She leaves before they can see her and heads to Elliott's room.

She finds him spread out on his bed, gingerly playing with one of Daisy's invitations.

"Why does Daisy always get all the pretty things?"

"Excuse me?"

"Daddy never made me any invitations."

"Elliott, you hate parties."

"I hated the parties you wanted to throw for me."

"Well, what kind of parties do you like?", she asks, dreading the answer.

"I... I don't know, mom."

"Look, I... we'll talk about this later, OK? Just... do you know what you're wearing?"

"Of course."

"Can I see it?"

Khakis, a pale yellow shirt. At least she never has to worry about Elliott being well-dressed. She places a kiss on top of his head. "Be in the foyer by three, please."

"I will."  
..............................

They ride to the party in Sam's white BMW, Daisy's huge wrapped gift sitting on the backseat next to Jaeger. Sam doesn't ask what it is, but looks pleased at the extravagance, and is reassured by Jaeger's offhand comment about how much Daisy will love it.

The Hudson's house is just as Santana expected, large, lavish and eerily like all other houses she's seen since she's been here, including their own. There are little girls in tutus going inside, and she sighs heavily. Sam casts her a warning look as he parks and takes the gift out of the car, which he hands to Santana once they're outside.

"Why do I have to carry it?"

"So you can give it to Daisy."

"I don't even know who she is."

"Well, neither do I."

Jaeger steps in between them. "I'll give it to her."

Sam shakes his head. "Don't be ridiculous, you can barely carry it."

But Jaeger is already taking it out of his mother's hands, hoisting onto his shoulders and lifting it into the air, as if to prove his father wrong. Sam only smiles indulgently as they follow Jaeger inside.

The place is packed and pale pink, and Santana finds herself wondering if it looks like this only today, or all the time. Jaeger spots Daisy right away, and Santana realizes his description of her was so spot on she could have easily picked her out from any other girl in the crowd. She's not pageant beautiful like her mother, but she's got the cutest smile in the room. She's being led around by a teenage girl with pink hair that Helen at first glance thinks must be Barbie wearing a wig, only her eyes are blue. Jaeger, like the gentleman he is, bows before them and hands Daisy her present, which Willow takes with a smile and tucks under the only free arm she's got. She lowers Daisy so she can kiss Jaeger's cheek, which she does with the grace of someone who has been taught that her kisses are special. Jaeger pats her head and heads back to his parents, grinning widely.

Finn spots them and ushers them out to the backyard, where the party's being held. Sam wanders off, to take pictures of Jaeger, while Santana looks around. The Hudson's backyard is odd. They don't have a pool, and half of the backyard resembles a forest to which one can see no clear end. There is a tire swing hanging from one of the many trees, and behind that, everything lurks into wild darkness and shadows. It's melancholy, different from the rest of the house. Finn turns to her.

"You like it?"

"Yeah, I... did you guys build it?"

Finn shakes his head. "It was like this when we got it. I wanted to remodel, put a pool in, but Quinn didn't want to. She liked it like this."

"Doesn't seem like her."

Finn smiles a little. "You think you know my wife now?"

Santana, for some reason, blushes. "No. I'm sorry. She just seems so..."

"One-note?"

"No."

"Santana, I would have thought you were too smart to peg anyone as a one-note, even someone as beautiful as my wife."

"It's not... because I'm jealous of her or anything, if that's what you're thinking."

"Oh, I know. That's the reason I asked you to be her friend, I know you aren't that kind of girl."

"Now look who's pegging who."

Finn laughs good-naturedly.

"You can't blame me, Finn. I mean, look around you. Look at her."

And there she is, in the middle of the overtly decked-out yard, like a forest fairy, in a dress of pale lilac lace. Finn sighs fondly, and then glances at the ballet decorations around them.

"I'll have you know I planned this party all by myself, including Daisy's outfit."

"Doesn't she always wear that?"

"Darn. Who told you?"

"My son. He's seen her at school. "

"They're in the same grade?"

"No. Jaeger just makes it his business to know everything."

"With a mother like you, it's no wonder."

His laugh catches Quinn's ear immediately. She turns her head toward them, angling her face to the sunlight, her eyes on Santana sharp and yellow like a bird's. She makes her way across the yard to them, and Santana wants to bolt, but her feet keep her rooted to the ground. Quinn grabs on Finn's arm and pulls him.

"Come on. We should cut the cake."

Finn shakes his head. "It's still early, Quinn. Have you said hi to Santana?"

"Hi, Santana."

She says it without even looking at her, like the words are being forced out of her, and Santana doesn't say anything. Quinn looks at her, expectant, but Santana stays silent, and when Finn shoots her a pleading look, she shrugs.

"I better go find Sam."

He's in the kitchen, having a beer with some of his teammates. She heads in the opposite direction, where she's spotted Tina, sitting by herself. There's a little girl in a purple tutu asleep in her arms, and Tina looks utterly trapped. Santana takes the child from her gently as she gets up and stretches.

"Thanks. Bathroom.", she mouths as she heads in the general direction of the house. Santana stares at the little girl in her arms and almost drops her when the thought occurs to her that she could have had this instead of Jaeger, and no idea how to raise her. Her eyes flit about again, looking for her son, but she's momentarily distracted by the sight of a boy hiding behind the branches of a tree. She isn't the only one watching him, a group of Jaeger's friends is too, and just like that, he disappears into the forest. She would be certain she'd imagined it if she couldn't hear the group of boys laughing behind his back. It stings, as if it had been her they were laughing at.

Quinn doesn't let go of Finn's arm for the rest of the night. She watches, from where she's sitting, Willow handling the whole party, looking to Finn for reassurance from time to time, but otherwise completely confident in her role. It makes Quinn unwillingly proud, she can see how Willow could be her perfect replacement, and, while satisfying, the idea of being replaced is not something she's ready to come to terms with. Daisy, too, seems to be shining with a brighter light today. No trace left of the tantrumy child she had to deal with last week, she's waving at a boy running across her yard, a pale blond with Santana's sharp features. Even though he's the new kid, he's completely at ease with the other children, and Quinn feels a pang of resentment.  
...................................

They're playing hide and seek, and Jaeger is looking for a place to hide. He runs into the forest, knows the other kids will be too scared to hide there, swiftly until he trips on a root which sends him flying. He doesn't see where he lands but feels warm skin beneath him, and if he was any other boy, he'd be afraid. Instead, he gets up calmly and shakes the dirt from his knees. It's that boy, the one in his class, who doesn't talk. They stare at each other until Jaeger stretches out a hand to help him, but Elliott shakes his head and gets up.

"I can do it myself."

"I never said you couldn't."

"Then why are you offering to help me?"

"I would have done it with anyone."

"Right."

"What were you trying to do, anyway?"

"Nothing."

"Liar. You were trying to climb that tree."

Elliott's quiet, looks down at his feet.

"I can help you. If you want."

"I don't need your help."

"I know. That's why I said if you want."  
..................................

Santana spends the rest of the afternoon talking to Tina, until Sam comes to get her. Dark is starting to fall, everyone is leaving, and she realizes she hasn't seen Jaeger since they got here. Never the mom to lose her kid in a store, she feels a bit panicky. She not overprotective, but it's an occasional side effect of Jaeger being an only child.

Deciding the only place he can be is the Hudson forest, she walks into it, until she hears soft laughter wrapping around the tree trunks. Unmistakably her son's, she follows it until she comes to a clearing, where Jaeger is helping, without success, the boy she saw earlier climb up a tree. For all her son hates failing at anything, they both seem pretty amused by it now, laughing again and again as they collapse when Jaeger's hands give away under the boy's weight.  
.........................................

After the party is over and everyone is gone, Quinn heads into the yard. She hasn't seen Elliott all night, he must be in there, lurking around the branches, more grateful than ever for their forest. It's scary to think that he might take after her, but sometimes, it's one of her deepest fears. After all, the forest was her idea, it was her who had fallen in love with it upon sight, who loved it for the same reason her son did, because it allowed her to hide. Suddenly, she hears voices and they frighten her, not because she thinks someone is there with Elliott, but because she's afraid no one is.

"Elliott?", she calls out tentatively, voice breaking, until she feels a cold hand coiling around her upper arm and pulling her behind a tree.

"Shhh."

She inhales deeply and smells man's deodorant, but when she looks up, it's Santana, gesturing for her to be quiet. Quinn pulls away angrily, but then sees what Santana is pointing at. Elliott is smiling wide, and she's shocked by how unfamiliar the expression looks on his face. He is looking high up into the branches of a tree, where that blond, elf-like boy is balancing perilously. She glances at Santana, to see if she's worried, but she's just smiling as wide as Elliott. Something about the pleased expression on her face bothers Quinn, more so as the kid somersaults into the air and off the tree and lands upright on his feet.

"See. Now your turn."

Quinn wants to stop them, but Santana lays a hand on her shoulder and she stays put. Santana's kid makes a foothold with his hands and tries to bolster Elliott up to the nearest branch, and this time he almost manages to grasp it, but then his hand slips and they both tumble to the floor. Jaeger bounces back immediately, but it takes Elliott longer to recover, and when he gets up, there is blood running down his knee. Normally, he would be crying at this, Quinn thinks, but here, he seems to be holding back. Jaeger glances at his knee. "Man, you bruise quick. Sit."

"What?"

"Sit", Jaeger repeats as he nudges Elliott onto the floor, then disappears behind some trees and comes back with a handful of mud.

"What are you doing with that?" asks Elliott, fear creeping into his voice.

"Nothing," Jaeger answers as he applies a mud plaster onto Elliott's knee.

Quinn can see her son trying to hold it together, and hears Santana's soft laughter next to her.

"Mud has healing properties. It helps bring down swelling", Jaeger explains to Elliott calmly.

"Where did you hear that?"

"My mom told me. And I read it in a book."

"Is your mom a doctor?"

"No. But she knows a lot."

There is a smudge of dirt on Elliott's nose, and as Jaeger moves closer, reaching so he can wipe it, Elliott's eyes go wide and something goes off like an alarm in Quinn's head. She runs towards them and pulls her son away from Jaeger.

"Elliott, let's go."

Elliott looks dazed, but let's himself be dragged away, until Jaeger's voice echoes sure and strong. "It's just a scratch. He'll be fine."

Quinn fixes her eyes on him. "Yeah, no thanks to you. I'm going to have to take him to the doctor now, to make sure it doesn't get infected."

Santana finally comes out from behind the trees. "You didn't seem to mind when he was putting it on."

Jaeger turns to look at her. "Mom? What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, actually. I've been looking for you for almost an hour, Jaeger. I was scared shitless."

"Were you spying on us?"

"No," Quinn says, at the same time Santana says "Yes."

Elliott turns to his mother. "Why?"

Quinn doesn't seem to be coming up with an answer, so Santana volunteers. "Because we thought it was cute, the way you guys were playing."

Jaeger wrinkles his nose in distaste as he looks up at Santana, who ruffles his hair. "Mom, tell Elliott's mom how mud works like a medicine."

Santana fixes her eyes into Quinn's. "I think she already knows that, sweetheart."

Quinn spins on her heel, dragging Elliott behind her. "Bye, Elliott", Jaeger calls out, and Elliott manages a half-wave.

Inside the house, Finn and Sam are sharing the last can of beer when Quinn and Elliott walk in.

"Hey, hon. Did you guys see Santana or Jaeger out there?"

Quinn glares at her husband, and, saying nothing more, disappears into the depths of the house, Elliott at her heels.

Back in the yard, Santana wonders if she should say something to Jaeger before they head back, something so he won't feel bad, but instead, it's him that turns to her, cool as ever, and smiling like he just figured something out.

"Now I know, mom."

"What?"

"Why you wanted to know about Daisy's eyes."


	7. Chapter 7

Quinn never explains what happened at the party to Finn, which is unusual, he thinks, because he still believes his wife tells him everything. He considers asking Santana, but doesn't want to make a big deal about it. Elliott didn't seem like himself after the party either, but asking him about it proves to be a waste of Finn's time.

The morning after, when Finn is out running, Quinn is woken up by loud screams coming from Daisy's room. She barges inside and finds Daisy on the floor, crying, while Elliott, sitting cross-legged in front of her, watches her with disgust.

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Elliott, what did you do to her?"

Daisy points at an Easy-Bake oven on the floor. "He won't let me play."

"She's the one who won't share."

"Elliott, that was your sister's birthday gift." Quinn glances around the room and her eyes land on a half-assembled dinosaur model. "Why don't you play with that instead?"

"That's mine, too," Daisy pipes up.

Quinn raises an eyebrow. "Really? Who gave it to you?"

"A boy."

"What boy?"

"His name's Jaeger."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "I should have known. Anyway, Elliott, you can play with Daisy's dinosaur model and let her play with the oven."

Elliott scrunches up his nose. "Why would I want to play with that? It's boring."

"No, it ishn't. It's fun. I'm 'most done."

"I want to play with the oven."

"And I already explained to you-"

"Daisy always gets everything."

"That's not true."

"She had a party, and now she has all these toys and she's being a brat!"

"Elliott-"

"I hate Daisy", he yells as he gets up and kicks Daisy's dinosaur model. "I hate Daisy, and I hate her party, and I hate you and-"

"Go to your room this instant!"

He runs out the room and Quinn hears the door to his own slam shut.  
....................................

That afternoon, when she's walking to ballet class with Daisy, a car stops alongside them. Quinn glances at the driver. Sam Evans, offering them a ride so cheerfully that she can't refuse. She straps Daisy onto the child seat in the back, shocked that Jaeger still uses one when Elliott stopped ages ago. She climbs into the front seat, next to Sam, and tries to think of something to say. Usually she's the queen of small talk, but lately she hasn't been feeling up to it. It's Sam who breaks the silence.

"Quinn... the other day at the party, was Santana rude to you in any way?"

She's taken aback, but can't bring herself to lie. "No."

"It's just... I saw you came back running, and I thought something might have happened."

"No, I just... wasn't feeling well."

"I know Santana can be a little... difficult, but I'd appreciate if you guys gave her a chance."

"Finn's taken to her. He thinks she's smart."

"Yeah. That's the problem with her."

"I didn't realize that was a problem," Quinn says innocently.

"It is in her case. She's... restless. Her mind is restless."

Quinn, always one to solve other people's troubles, drums her fingers on the dashboard. "You could tell her to join the women's book club. They meet at the community center once a month. Some of our friends are in it."

Sam lets out a guffaw, tries to cover it with a cough. "I'm sorry, I just... don't think that's gonna cut it."

"Oh, she's too good for a book club now?

"It's not that. See, Santana is... was, a biochemist. She was doing research for the University of Chicago when we met. I was a senior, and she was already working on her Ph. D." He says it without a hint of pride, and Quinn thinks it must be true, because he is so completely objective.

"She's older than you?"

Sam smiles in spite of himself. "She doesn't look it, does she?"

Quinn shakes her head.

"So, you see why I think book club might not be... stimulating enough for her?"

Quinn nods, admitting defeat. "Why doesn't she just... get a job?"

"There's nothing for her out here. She needs to be in a big city, so she can do her research. And she hasn't worked since Jaeger was born. We wanted at least one of us to stay home and take care of him."

"And it turned out to be her."

"We were gonna take turns, but then my career took off. I couldn't just quit. She has her whole life to do research, but my body's running against the clock. I can't be an athlete forever."

There is dead silence inside the car, and, finally, Quinn thinks of something to say. "Well, she seems to have made friends with Tina Cohen-Chang, and she's not too smart."

"I think she's just doing that to piss me off."

"You don't like Tina? Why?"

Sam turns to look at her, his eyes level with hers. "I don't know, Quinn. You tell me."

Quinn laughs lightly. "You're not too stupid yourself, Sam."  
..................................

After ballet class, Daisy and Quinn wait for her classmates to get picked up. There is a couple of them left, all playing on the floor with Daisy. Quinn hears her daughter's breathy voice rise over the rest.

"Em'ly, can I borrow your pink pony?"

Emily, an agreeable child, hands over her pink pony, which Quinn is surprised to see, is none as grand as the one her father gave Daisy for her birthday a couple of days ago.

"Daisy, baby, where's your pony?"

"What pony, mamma?"

"The one grandpa Russel gave you."

"Oh, Elliott has it," Daisy pipes cheerfully.

"What?"

"Elliott has all my ponies. I let him borrow them."

"When?"

"I don't know, mommy."

Stupid question, Quinn thinks. Daisy has no notion of time. "Well, where are they?"

Daisy shrugs. "In his room, I guess."  
........................................

The first thing Quinn does when they get home is head straight to Elliott's room. She finds him laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. "What are you doing here?"

"Daisy says you have her little ponies."

"She's lying."

The response is quick, immediate enough for Quinn to know it's her son who's lying. "Elliott, please tell me the truth."

"Am I going to get in trouble?"

Quinn wants to say no, but honestly, she's not sure. "Elliott..."

"I don't have them."

She didn't know, that children could be so frustrating, not until she had her own. She tries to keep the anger off her voice.

"Let me have them, please."

But Elliott just flips over on the bed and buries his face into his pillows.

"Elliott?"

She receives no answer from her son.

"Elliott?"

"I told you I don't have them," he yells.

Infuriated, Quinn begins opening the drawers to his dresser, tossing everything out. Finn always tells her that she has to be better at keeping her cool, because she regrets not doing so afterward, but in the heat of the moment it seems like more than she can manage, and she wonders if it's even in her at all, being able to keep her temper.

Elliott sits up when he realizes what she's doing, and just stares at her, mildly fearful as she goes through all of his things, tossing clothes out of his closet and toys out of their baskets until there is nowhere left to look but under his bed, and if he thought she wasn't gonna do it, she does, crawling on all fours until she finds what she's looking for, a set of ponies all colors of the rainbow under his bed, carefully arranged and sporting various hairstyles.

"I thought you said you didn't have them."

"I don't know how they got there."

"Elliott-"

"Daisy must have done it."

Quinn takes a deep breath. "I don't want you going into your sister's room again, do you hear me?"

"Why not?"

"And I don't want to see you playing with her toys anymore. You have your own."

"Take them. I don't want them."

"Yeah, well, I don't want them either."

"Give them to Daisy, then."

"What would Daisy want with a bunch of cars?"

"The same thing I want with her ponies, mommy. To play."

That stops Quinn on her tracks. "Elliott, there are toys that are not appropriate-"

"I know, mommy. You explained that already."

Quinn sighs, already regretting the mess in the room. Her son looks around, too. "Do I have to clean up?"

She shakes her head. "I'll tell Millie to do it."

Elliott jumps off his bed and throws his arms around her. "I'm sorry."

Quinn hugs him back. "No, I'm sorry, Elliott. I'm sorry I made such a mess."  
..........................................

The incident with Elliott becomes something else she doesn't tell Finn about, partly because she's ashamed of the way she lost her temper, partly because she can't process everything that happened, and she knows she will have to, in order to tell Finn.

Instead, at night, when they're in bed, Finn watching the news and Quinn reading a gossip magazine, she brings up Santana.

"Did you know that Santana Evans was some sort of big-shot scientist?"

Finn keeps his eyes glued to the screen. "Yeah."

"How come you never told me?"

"I' forgot. Sam doesn't really talk about it."

"He doesn't like it, does he?"

"I don't think so. It was all she did when we were in college. Study. Sam said she was antisocial. She never went to parties or anything."

"Why would he marry someone like that?"

"Well, have you seen her?"

"I thought you said she wasn't your type."

"That doesn't mean she's not good-looking, Quinn. She was a model when she met Sam."

Quinn looks surprised. "Really? She seems too stuck up to want to be a model."

Finn shrugs. "I don't think she needed the money, you know her family's... well, I don't know. She has some sort of torrid childhood history, from what Sam told me."  
...........................................

Most things come easily to Santana. One of these is working out. She's the kind of person people stop and stare at the gym, the kind that makes others jealous. She's better than most men, faster and more flexible, if not stronger. When she gets on the treadmill, the room looks like it's stopped moving, each foot hitting the ground with graceful certainty. Quinn can't help but stare the first time she sees her on it, until she realizes it's Santana she's looking at and forces herself to glance away quickly.

She seems to be on every apparatus, flitting from one to the next in a matter of seconds, and is equally proficient at each one she tries. There are so many mirrors that Quinn has an easy time keeping track of her without Santana ever noticing. There is something on Santana's mind too, and when Quinn finally gets off her elliptical, she follows her into the locker room.

"Hey."

Quinn turns around and looks at her coolly.

"What was that at the party the other day?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I didn't like the way you talked to my son."

"Your son should learn to mind his own business."

"He's a kid, kids never mind their own business."

"Mine do."

"If they're anything like you, I doubt it."

"I don't know what you mean."

"You've been staring at me ever since I came in."

Quinn flushes a bright red. "Why would I be staring at you?"

Santana shrugs. "Believe me, I have no idea. But that's beside the point. I just want you to leave my kid alone."

"Then tell him to stay away from my son."

Santana nods, but she can see the futility in this. She could never, ever see herself telling Jaeger to stay away from someone like Elliott, the way she could never tell him to stay away from a wounded animal. And even if she did, he would never do it, Jaeger makes his own rules, and they're almost always sensible. She had known, almost right away, that her son would be a doctor, even if he didn't know it yet. She didn't want to put any ideas into his head, but, at the same time, there wasn't an open wound that could keep Jaeger away.  
.............................................

"Mom, I wanna start ballet again."

He brings it up one night at dinner. Sam frowns, but Santana thinks it might be just the distraction he needs.

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh. But there's no ballet at St. Paul's."

One thing about her child is, he doesn't wait for anyone to solve his problems, so Santana knows he'll have an answer to this one, all ready.

"Uh-huh, and?"

"I asked around and there's a class at the community center."

"For kids your age?"

"Yeah. From three to twelve years old."

Sam clears his throat a little, trying to put this into words that won't upset his son. "Are you sure that's boys and girls three to twelve?

"No, but we can always go and ask."

Sam doesn't volunteer, so Santana does. "We can go tomorrow if you-"

"No. I'm taking him to visit my mother, remember?"

"Oh. That's right. Well, I'll go check it out myself, Jaeger."

Sam glares at her, but her son grins. "Thanks, mom."

...............................................

Sometimes, after class, Quinn stays a little while longer, just to dance. She lets Daisy watch her, even lets her pick the songs sometimes, but not tonight. Tonight she knows exactly what she wants, to play, to pretend, in the only stage she has. So she dims the lights and makes Daisy sit in a corner and watch, so quietly that Quinn will be able to imagine she's not there, that she never was, and that she got to do what she wanted to do at twenty, be music and not a mother.

She never gets enough of dancing and it scares her; when it takes over it hurts to go back to real life, so she allows herself to get carried away very few times. Tonight is one.

Daisy doesn't recognize her then, when Quinn ceases to be her mother and becomes just a stranger who dances with a boundless passion that Daisy doesn't understand and in which she's not interested. She grabs one of the balls they used for class and sneaks it into her corner without need, Quinn wouldn't have noticed anyway, and begins toying with it as her mother leaps across the room like a dolphin, so thrilled to be in the air and grateful to land safely in water. Quinn knows she will always land on her feet with a certainty that doesn't permeate anything else in her life, her love for this has been her only constant since the age of five.  
..................................

The parking lot to the center is empty, but there is a light glowing from inside. It's enough for Santana; she parks her truck and walks in. It's eerie, it reminds her of being picked up late from school when she was a child, knowing there was no one else in the building but her. But she follows the light and soon hears music, faint, and steps, determined. There is a half-open door and she doesn't even think about it for a second; without opening it, she peeks inside.

There is a woman, dancing, and a child in a pale yellow tutu, watching until she gets bored. Santana feels, for a moment, like she's looking through her microscope; Quinn's body in movement looks blurry, but reflected in the mirror, it's clear. At first her fascination is a measured, calculated observation, until it becomes clear that for Quinn there is no choreography, and Santana doesn't think she's ever seen anything so perfect that followed no rules.

She sighs and immediately regrets it. It wasn't loud, but Daisy's heard it. With a sweet smile, she rolls the ball across the floor to her. It stops at her feet, a request. Santana puts a finger to her lips, but the slight movement catches Quinn's eye. She looks up at the reflection on the mirror and bores her eyes into hers. Santana wants to somehow convey to Quinn that she doesn't have to stop, but Quinn seems to know this; she's is still moving, still dancing, only her eyes won't leave Santana's in the mirror. She feels a blush crawling up her cheeks when she realizes Daisy's watching them, wants to look away but can't, because Quinn won't let her, until the song, which has contained a minute universe within it, comes to an end. Quinn tears her eyes from hers then, quickly slips off her ballet slippers and throws on a large sweatshirt that once belonged to Finn. She gathers her stuff silently, and finally picks up Daisy with both arms and heads to the door.

"Can I help you?"

"I... wanted to ask about the ballet classes. I didn't... I didn't know you were the teacher."

It had crossed her mind, though, that she might be here, because Finn had mentioned it, but she never thought-

"Otherwise you wouldn't have come?"

"I didn't say that."

"Are the classes for you?"

"No."

Quinn wonders, but doesn't ask. "Well, the secretary's here from 9 to 5, if you want to stop by tomorrow."

"Can't you tell me about it?"

"I'm afraid I can't."

Quinn slips past her, and on her way out, their hips brush together for a second. It's all it takes for Santana to know.


	8. Chapter 8

Santana signs up Jaeger for ballet while he's in school the next morning, at a time she knows Quinn won't be around. She doesn't know if she's imagining it, but she feels the secretary give her a disapproving look when she finds out Jaeger is a boy, and while she can't exactly stop him from joining the class, she warns Santana he will be the only boy amongst girls. Santana shrugs it off. Jaeger won't care, and she knows any animosity toward her son will dissipate once they realize how talented he is.

He will begin class that afternoon. Santana doesn't want him to start off on the wrong foot, the way she knows he will if she runs into Quinn. It is at times like these she wishes they had a maid or a nanny, but, after all, her son isn't fatherless, she thinks. She's just gonna have to suck it up and ask Sam to take him, and he won't be able to say no, no matter how much he hates it, because he can never say no to Jaeger.  
......................................

It's ridiculous how often Sam feels like Santana does stuff with the sole purpose of upsetting him. He's convinced ballet is one of those things, because he can't for the life of him think where Jaeger would have gotten that idea, though he's never asked him. It's not exactly like he can say no to him doing it, because he doesn't have a real reason. The tried and true but it's for girls is not going to work on his son, he's too intelligent. Sam himself doesn't feel very comfortable with that reasoning, he knows it makes no sense, yet he's still a firm believer.

He's also never been the kind of parent who tells his kid what to do, he wants Jaeger to see him as a friend, not some cop patrolling his life. And, as far as he understands, the kid is talented. The last thing he wants is to keep him from developing his talents, it's just that he doesn't understand why Jaeger, who could be good at anything he chose, would choose this.

So, here he is, driving his son to ballet class one afternoon, the kid bouncing off the seat with excitement. It's not fair, how Santana had tricked him into it, by asking in front of Jaeger. His son had looked so hopeful that Sam had just nodded, but wondered why Santana wasn't taking him herself. She always insisted on being there for every little part of Jaeger's life, and it was unlike her to miss something like this. Jaeger had assumed it was an attempt to bring them closer together, to let them bond over ballet, but Sam was suspicious. Santana had never given any indication of wanting to share Jaeger's love with him.

As soon as he parks the car, Jaeger jumps out and races into the building. Sam has to jog to keep up, and catches sight of his son's blond mop of hair as he runs into a room, as if he had known, all along, where to go. He stops just outside the door and asks himself if he really wants to do this. He knows what he will see, eight or ten girls in pink tutus and his son, like the ugly duckling among them. He decides he doesn't have the heart when he hears a voice calling out his name.

"Sam?" Shit. Someone's seen him here, and know they will know, everybody will know.

Quinn Hudson, in tights and leg warmers, smiles at him. "Do you wanna watch the class?"

"Uh, no, I don't think so... wait. You're...?"

"Yeah. Your wife didn't tell you?"

"No. It must have slipped her mind."

But it makes sense now, why Santana didn't want to bring Jaeger. She wanted to stay out of his way.

Inside, Jaeger has already changed into his ballet shoes. Sam cringes. "Jaeger, come here a minute."

He takes a leap that lands him right between Quinn and Sam.

"Quinn, this is my son Jaeger, I don't think you guys have been formally introduced."

Quinn extends her hand out and Jaeger takes it. "We already know each other, Dad."

"You do?"

"Yeah. From the party," says Jaeger, keeping his eyes on Quinn. She can't believe he remembers, and blushes a little under his gaze. "So, you're the teacher?"

"Yeah."

"Mom didn't mention it."

"Maybe she thought you wouldn't want to come if you knew."

Jaeger makes a face. "I don't care if it's you. I just wanna dance."

"So... you like ballet?"

If she's trying to embarrass him, it doesn't work. He just nods, glancing with impatience at the girls who have already started warming up. Quinn can't pretend she wholeheartedly approves and turns to Sam. "I've never taught a boy before. We'll see how it goes."

"Your son doesn't like ballet?" Jaeger asks.

Quinn's response is immediate and cutting. "No, of course not."

But, honestly, she doesn't know. Maybe, if given the opportunity, he might, but then she remembers him screaming about how much he hated it the other day. It had stung, no doubt about it. "I think he's probably a little fed up with it, since I do it, and his sister's obsessed with it."

"Daisy?"

"Yeah," says Quinn, reluctantly impressed. "You're good with names."

"My mom says my memory's prodigious."

"Daisy remembers you as well. Apparently you made quite an impression."

Sam laughs. "He did?"

"Yeah. His birthday gift was rather... remarkable." And no wonder, she thinks, if it came from a boy who likes ballet.

Sam misses the irony in her voice and smiles proudly. The girls are beginning to get restless, and Quinn smiles back at Sam. "Well, you're welcome to stay and watch the class if you want."

But Sam shakes his head. He's never seen Jaeger do ballet, and he's not about to start now. "Thanks. I'll wait outside."  
.....................................

Jaeger is unteachable, and for the first time in her life, she's grateful for Elliott. Everyone always told her she got off easy, having a boy that behaved like a girl, but she'd never found it anything but shameful. Now, she's beginning to get an idea of what they meant, and she's not liking it.

"Jaeger, please, try to follow what I'm doing-"

But he's not having it, he's doing his own thing, bouncing off the walls, and she can't really blame him. He's good, easily the best she's taught. His talent is effortless, he never looks like he's trying particularly hard. She remembers all those arduous hours of work she put into ballet as a child, and suddenly it doesn't seem fair.

If she liked Santana, or even just Jaeger, she would move him up to class with the teenagers. Instead, she spends the rest of the class trying to reign him in, though only half-heartedly, because she so seldom gets a show, and he's good to watch. He makes the rest of her students look awkward and frail, and she realizes that she's never enjoyed watching one of them dance, because there's always things to fix and correct, but Jaeger doesn't need to be taught. She has to try very hard to keep holding a grudge against someone who shares her only passion in life, and is in fact sure that if she could watch herself dance, she'd look much like Jaeger.

It is such a case of mixed feelings that it gives her a headache and a heartache, and in the end she says nothing to Sam of his talent, but instead just tells him to talk to Jaeger about his behavior in class.  
..............................

Jaeger thinks that the fact that he's taking class with Elliott's mom entitles him to talk to the kid who talks to no one. Elliott hasn't seemed all that inclined to talk after the incident at Daisy's party, but Jaeger's caught him sneaking looks at him during class, so he figures he's got nothing to lose. He approaches him one day during recess, where Elliott is, as usual, sitting alone on one of the playground benches.

"How's your knee?"

Elliott looks up from the notebook he was pouring over, so surprised he almost drops it. He doesn't answer, and Jaeger glances at his knee.

"Oh, it's almost healed up," he says brightly. "See, I told you the mud would help."

Elliott still doesn't say anything. Jaeger sits on the ground at his feet. "Your mom take you to the doctor?"

"No. She hates doctors."

"Oh. Why?"

He shrugs. Jaeger glances at the notebook on his lap. "What's that?"

Elliott immediately tries to cover it up. "Nothing."

"You're doing homework during recess?"

"It's not homework."

"Then?"

"I'm drawing."

Jaeger frowns. "Drawing what?"

"Just things."

"So you can actually draw?"

"What do you mean? Everybody can draw."

"Nah. I can't draw for shit, and I'm good at everything."

Elliott looks at Jaeger, a little alarmed. He's never heard anyone his age use curse words before, not even his parents do. Jaeger seems to notice and bites his lip with a little grin. "Sorry. I forget not everyone... my mom does it all the time."

"She does?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Jaeger shrugs. "It's a habit. She says no one's ever given her a good reason not to."

"So you don't get in trouble if you...?"

"As long as I'm smart enough not to get caught during school."

"Well, I won't tell."

Jaeger smiles. "Thanks. So, can you show me your drawings?"

Elliott reluctantly relaxes his hold. Jaeger takes the notebook from him and begins looking. Elliott's sketches seem familiar, though he's not sure why. They're miniature and detailed drawings of everything one could imagine; bugs, leaves, litter, even a pair of hands. "Whose are those?"

"My sister's. She poses for me sometimes."

"Daisy?" asks Jaeger, surprised a three-year old could stay so still.

"No, Willow. The older one."

"Oh. That's nice of her."

"Yeah. She's the only one who knows I draw. She buys me pencils and stuff."

"Now I know, too."

"Yeah. I guess you do."

Jaeger leafs through the sheets, stopping at the sight of a meticulously drawn butterfly. Something crosses his face. "Hey, if I show you a picture of something, do you think you could draw it for me?"

"Yeah, sure."

Jaeger smiles and gets up. "Cool. I'll see you around, then."  
.................................

"We're flying out to Denver."

"What?"

"For the holidays. I'm playing a game there, and all of us are going."

"What do you mean by all of us?"

"I mean, you, me, Jaeger, and the rest of the team's families."

"You're not serious."

"Yeah. I am."

"So this is like a joint vacation or something?"

"Something like that. We got the hotel booked and everything, so we can all stay together."

"You booked the hotel without even asking me? What if I couldn't go?"

There is no real reason she can't, only that the thought of leaving her (Jaeger's) microscope for even one day pains her.

"Why, because you have so much stuff to do, Santana?"

It's your fault that I don't, she thinks, but bites her tongue, because it's not true. She does have something to do now, and it's giving her life new colors.

"How long are we staying?"

"Ten days."

"Have you told Jaeger?"

"Yes. He's very excited. I hope you're not planning to ruin that for him."

"You must not know me at all if you think," she starts, but stops mid-sentence, realizing it's useless. "If Jaeger wants to go, if he's happy to go, then I'm happy to go with you."  
.....................................

She buys herself a pair of noise-cancelling headphones for the flight. Sam glares at her when she puts them on, but Jaeger laughs like he just heard a really good joke. Sam thinks she's doing it because she doesn't want to socialize, but the thing only her and Jaeger know is that she's afraid of flying.

On the other side of the plane, Willow is wearing noise-cancelling headphones, too, to stop herself from having to listen to the hissy-fit her mother throws every time they get on a plane. Only this time, Quinn is keeping herself unusually calm, mostly because she can see Santana across the aisle and doesn't want to call attention to herself, even though Santana is wearing headphones and her eyes are shut, head tilted back into the seat. She fell asleep that quickly?, Quinn wonders, jealous. Sam catches her looking and flashes her a thumbs-up, which Quinn answers with a tight smile. She drank a whole bunch of wine to calm her nerves, and now has to use the bathroom badly. Normally, she would ask Finn to go with her, she never goes alone in the plane, but Daisy is sleeping strewn across his lap, and she has to leap over both of them to get to the aisle. Finn shoots her a quizzical look, but she shakes her head.

In the bathroom, she buttons up her skirt, bumping against the walls, and not falling over only because the space is too small. She takes a deep breath and splashes some water on her face. When she feels ready to go back to her seat, she tries the door handle, to no avail. Then she remembers why Finn always has to escort her to these bathrooms. She can never get the door open on her own.  
.........................................

It's all going fine until Sam orders pancakes. He cooks them every morning at home, and the smell of them now, after so many years, makes her sick. She's never told him, because she feels it would make her look weak, and the last thing she needs is to look weak in front of this man who already overpowers her. But she's sure he must know by now, Jaeger figured it out without needing to be told and he's only seven. He glances at Santana in alarm when the flight attendant sets Sam's plate on his tray. Santana wills herself not to open her eyes, thinking the sight of the food will only make her dizzier. She tries breathing in through her mouth, but it only makes her feel like she's actually eating the pancakes, and she gags a little. She needs to get away, before this becomes full-blown nausea.

She has the aisle seat; Sam wanted the window and Jaeger always sits between them, so she can make her exit quickly, she isn't even sure if Sam notices. She tries the door to the bathroom but finds it locked, and, glancing at the little sign on the front of the plane, confirms that there's someone in there. Then she hears it, a faint cry for help. Not sure she didn't imagine it, she presses an ear to the bathroom door.

"You all right in there?"

"No," says a small voice she can't place. A woman. "I can't get out."

"All right. Let me call the flight attendant, OK?"

"If I wanted her to come, I would have pressed the call button."

"So why haven't you?"

"I don't want to cause a scene."

It's hard to feel sorry for whoever this is. She suspects it might be Tina, it's be just like her to be concerned about something like this, but then spots her a couple seats away, alone with her daughter. Her husband is sitting near the front of the plane, with his buddies. Tina waves and Santana waves back, feigning a calm she's too irritated to feel. "Look, I really think it would be best if we just-"

But she hears heavy breathing on the other side of the door. "What's wrong?"

"I think I'm having a panic attack."

"OK, I definitely need to go call the flight attendant now-"

"Please don't leave."

Santana hesitates. "Well, press the call button, then."

"No."

"You're not really having a panic attack, are you?"

"I don't know."

The plane lurches and Santana feels a wave of nausea hit her. She groans.

"What is it?" asks the voice.

"I'm about to puke my fucking guts out, that's what."

A giggle comes from behind the door.

"I fail to see how that's funny. Unless you're, like, five."

"It's funny because flying makes me nauseous, too."

There is a pause, and Santana sighs.

"What?"

"I can't believe this is happening?"

"What's this?"

"That I'm standing in the back of a plane having a conversation with a total stranger."

"We're not total strangers. I mean, we have something in common."

"What, that we both hate planes?"

"I never said I hated them."

"So you don't?"

"No, I do. Well, I mean, I don't like flying. I try to avoid it. That's probably why I'm so scared of it, I'm sure if I did it more often-"

"Nah. I used to fly all the time when I was a child and it never made any difference. If anything, I think that's why I hate it."

"Why did you fly all the time?"

"My parents traveled a lot."

Quinn can think of several people who would fit that description. "We probably know each other, you know."

"I don't think so. At first I thought you were my friend Tina, but I can see her from here."

Quinn goes silent all of sudden.

"Are you all right?"

She receives no answer, but then turns around and sees Jaeger making his way down the plane, closely followed by Finn.

"Great."

"What?"

"There's people coming."

Jaeger reaches her first, frowning. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting for the bathroom. A lady got locked inside and she can't-"

But then Finn gets there and looks around. "Quinn?" He turns to them. "Have you guys seen my wife? She came to the bathroom like twenty minutes ago."

"Shit," Santana says loudly.

"What?"

"I think she's locked inside."

"Quinn?" Finn says as he knocks on the door. He hears no reply, and kicks the door in easily. Quinn steps out, smoothing down her hair and clothes, trying to look calm.

"What happened?," Finn asks, visibly worried. "You OK?"

"I'm fine," she says waving a hand in the air carelessly, in perfect imitation of her mother. Her eyes meet Santana's and she shrugs. "Told you we knew each other," she says before walking back toward her seat, Finn at her heels.


	9. Chapter 9

I've been posting every day so far, since I had enough chapters to be able to do so. I have, however, reached the end of these chapters and will continue to post once a week, on Sundays. Thanks for reading. :)

 

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The morning before the game, Quinn's a nervous wreck. She hasn't been to one of these in a while, and this is exactly why. She feels as if the pressure wasn't on Finn, but rather on her, to prove why this all-star player chose her and not another girl. At home, she's invisible, but here, it's all fair game, and people are curious about her; she's seen a couple of pictures of herself posted online. The thought hasn't allowed her to sleep at all; she hasn't been awake this early in years. The kids are still sleeping, all three of them tangled on the bed they're sharing.

There is a knock on the door and she frowns. Finn can't be back yet. She almost doesn't open, but then remembers the door has a peephole and looks through it. It's a delivery man, holding a huge bouquet of roses on one hand and a large glass vase on the other. She opens the door with a smile; Finn knows it's a tough day for her, and he always tries to make her feel better. She tips the delivery man with a twenty and tries to fill the vase with water as quietly as possible. Her husband thinks of everything.

She's on this train of thought when the vase slips from her grasp and shatters against the floor. She tries to go get something to clean up the mess, but slips and steps on one of the pieces. Blood immediately begins gushing from her foot, mixing with the water and turning everything into a flood of red. She winces and peeks outside, to see if the children have woken up, but they're still fast asleep. There is another knock on the door, and hoping this time it's Finn, she hops on one foot to open it.

She finds herself face to face with Sam, who looks at her with a concerned frown.

"Everything all right? I'm right next door and I heard a crash."

"It fell."

"What fell?"

"Finn bought me a vase and some flowers, and the vase fell and broke."

He glances at her foot. "And you hurt yourself. May I?"

Quinn nods as Sam crouches down and examines the cut. "Well, I'm no doctor, but I know about injuries. You might need stitches."

"No way. I've never had stitches in my life. And I hate hospitals."

"I'm sure we can call the team doctor and have him come here."

Quinn glances at her children, still in bed.

"We can do it in my room, if you want. Jaeger's downstairs having breakfast."

"And your wife?"

"She always goes running in the mornings."

"Yeah, Finn too." She pauses. "I should probably call him."

"But?"

"But I don't want to interrupt him. Not today."

They look at each other, and finally, Quinn nods reluctantly. She doesn't expect it, but Sam sweeps her up in his arms, shuts the door, and carries her to his room. He sets her gently on the bed and proceeds to make some calls. Quinn looks around the room, which is very neat compared to their messy one. She examines a half-open drawer that appears to contain lingerie and toiletries that must belong to Santana, embarrassed by her own curiosity. She fidgets a little and Sam hangs up, reassuring her the doctor will be right over. "So, never had any stitches, huh?"

"Nope. Or a broken bone. Worst thing that's happened to me is having my children." But she pauses, because it's not true. "I didn't mean-"

Sam laughs. "I know you didn't. I'm sure you must be a really good mom."

Quinn sighs. "I try. But I'm glad someone thinks so, at any rate."

He nods. "I do. And don't worry about the stitches. I've had thousands, and I'm still here."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Things are never as painful as you think they're gonna be."

They make small talk until the doctor arrives and confirms what they suspected. Quinn sighs and shuts her eyes as he gets everything ready, the smell of alcohol bringing back all sorts of things she doesn't want to remember. Her breath hitches a little when she feels the doctor's hands on her foot, but immediately, she feels another hand, warm and strong, holding onto her own, steadying her. She jumps when the doctor starts stitching and feels Sam's hand squeezing hers, and feels so grateful, she wants to cry. She squeezes back, and he was right. It really isn't so bad after all.  
......................................

The crowd roars as Finn goes out into the field, and Quinn wishes she could stand up to get a better view, but she's been ordered not to move by Finn, who has gotten a thrill out of carrying her around the whole day. He even carried her to her seat minutes before he had to be out on the field, to the utter delight of his fans, and has promised to be back for her as soon as the game is over.

Not being able to move, however, means that she has no say in where she sits, which ends up being next to the aisle, behind the front row seats of Willow and Daisy and next to Elliott, who's afraid of being too close to the field. Santana is sitting on the other side of Elliott, and Quinn can hear her clicking her tongue impatiently.

"Come on, Sam, seriously? Not even I would have missed that pass, you fucking-"

"Mom."

Santana winces at her Jaeger's hand on her thigh. "Sorry."

Elliott is growing increasingly bored, to Jaeger's perplexity. He finds football fascinating, his dad is his hero in spite of his many shortcomings as a player, and it's odd to see Elliott's isn't. He stretches his leg across Santana's seat and prods Elliott with his foot.

"You can't fall asleep, man. Your dad's killing it."

"Is he?"

"Yeah, can't you tell?"

"I don't know anything about football."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Elliott shrugs. "Not something they teach you at school, is it?"

"No, but haven't your parents-"

"Oh, yeah. Tons of times. I just never understand."

Jaeger practically clambers over Santana's seat with the excitement it brings him explaining new things to people. His mouth and hands are moving a mile a minute, and Elliott finds himself actually listening.

Quinn tries to ignore their conversation, but Santana, caught in the middle, glances back and forth between them. "You guys want me to move or something?"

"Yeah, mom, if you can, that'd be great."

Jaeger makes a move to get up, but Santana shakes her head and switches seats with Elliott instead. She feels Quinn stiffen immediately, and when their arms brush together on the arm rest, Quinn moves hers away quickly. The kids continue talking, and Santana turns to Quinn.

"So, I guess we figured out we can actually have a civilized conversation."

"The only reason it was civilized was that we didn't know we were talking to each other."

"What happened to your foot?"

"I stepped on broken glass."

"I guess that explains the blood on my bedsheets."

Quinn blushes. "I didn't-"

"It's fine. I know Sam likes playing the hero."

"He's a gentleman."

Santana shrugs. "If you say so. I take he never suggested putting mud on your wound?"

"No. Of course not."

"Would you have let him if he had?"

"Why are you asking me these questions?"

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"Frankly, yes."

Santana grins wickedly. "Oh, I'm sorry. But, see, now you have to put up with me."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do. Because you owe Sam."

Quinn bites her lip.

"I suppose you must think of me like the way you think of Tina Cohen-Chang. That he's too good for me."

"Who told you that?"

"Tina herself. But it's not hard to see it. Why would he choose me, right?"

"I never said-"

"You didn't have to."

"Fine, yeah, I don't see what he sees in you."

"And I, on the other hand, see exactly what Finn sees in you."

"Of course you do. I'm pretty, I'm a good wife, I'm a good mother-"

"Yeah. But it's what he doesn't see that makes you who you are."

"And what would you know about that?"

"Has he ever seen you dance?"

"Of course he has. We dance together all the time."

"No. Like the other day. Has he ever seen you dance like that?"

Quinn stays silent.

"Or maybe a better question would be, have you ever let him see you dance like that?"

Quinn looks away, off in to the field, trying, half-heartedly, to spot her husband amidst the moving bodies. Next to them, Elliott and Jaeger are so absorbed in their conversation that they haven't noticed their mothers have started one of their own.

"So, I'll take that as a no. But, why?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Ah, she speaks."

"That I don't want to talk to you doesn't mean I don't speak."

"Ouch."

Quinn turns to face her straight on, this time. "What is wrong with you? It's like you've been determined to annoy me since the day we met."

"It's nothing personal, that's just how I am."

"No, I think it is something personal, I don't see you acting toward anybody the way you act-"

"Of course, you think you're so fucking special-"

"Elliott," Quinn interrupts sharply, having had enough of this. "Please switch seats with Mrs. Evans and come back-"

"It's fine," says Santana, already getting up. "Jaeger, move." She takes her son's seat and Elliott moves over until he's sitting next to his mother again. With both boys in between them, Santana turns her attention back to the field. She can hear Elliott's voice still yapping away, unaware of what just happened, but she can also feel Jaeger's eyes on her.  
......................................

Everyone's at the hotel pool. Everyone except for Elliott, who dislikes any kind of physical activity, and, even worse, getting sunburned. Jaeger, who is playing water-polo with some friends, jumps out of the pool as soon as he spots Elliott sitting down under a large umbrella.

"You busy?"

Elliott frowns at the sketch he's working on, a bonefish. "Not really."

Jaeger sits down next to him, water from his hair dripping onto the sketchbook, making the ink run.

"Shit, I'm sorry."

Elliott shakes his head. "It's fine. It wasn't coming out right anyway."

"You know that thing I asked you to draw for me?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you do it now?"

"But... I don't have any extra paper."

"We can go up to my room. I have a key."

.....................................

The room is cold. The Evans' obviously believe in keeping it that way, because the AC is on and the lights are off and the curtains are drawn shut even though no one is inside. Jaeger turns it off and opens the windows a little, to let the warm air in.

He grabs a book from the bedside drawer. For a moment, Elliott thinks it's going to be the Bible, because, who brings books on a vacation? His parents certainly don't, but he's surprised to see a few strewn around the Evans' room.

Jaeger sits down on the bed, gesturing for Elliott to sit beside him. He does, watching silently as Jaeger flips through the book, until he finds the page he was looking for.

"Here. This is it."

Elliott studies the picture. It's of an odd-looking beetle with an intricate brown design on its back. "OK. Gimme the paper."

"I don't want you to draw it on paper. I want you to draw it on me."

Elliott looks afraid, suddenly. "Why?"

"So it'll be like a tattoo."

"Won't you get in trouble?"

Jaeger scoffs. "Of course not."

"But... I don't have any pens, all I have are my pencils, and-"

Jaeger gets up and pulls out a set of permanent markers from his suitcase. "Here," he says, handing them to him. "You can keep them when you're done."

Elliott inhales, like he can't believe he's really about to do this. "Where do you want it?"

Jaeger stretches out his forearm. His skin is warm from being out in the sun, and Elliott's fingers feel frozen in turn. He uncaps a marker and drops the top. Jaeger bends over to pick it up, then stretches his arm out again. Elliott places the tip of the marker to his skin, hand shaking.

"Go on."

"What if I mess up?"

"You won't."

"You don't know that."

"It's not like it's really permanent, Elliott. It'll only last a couple of days."

"I know, but.."

"It's OK. Just do it."

And so he does, and it's as different from drawing on paper as he pictured it would be. Lines seem to come alive on Jaeger's skin, which moves when he traces. His nerves vanish with the fascination he finds in this surface, and he wonders why he never thought of it before. Jaeger is smiling a little, watching him.

"What?" asks Elliott, suddenly self-conscious.

"You were smiling."

"No, I wasn't."

"Yes, you were."

"OK, fine, so what?"

"Nothing. It's just that you never smile."

At that moment, the room door opens and Santana bursts in, clad in a black bikini, a striped blue and white towel wrapped around her waist. She looks at the two boys, huddled in a corner of the bed. "What are you guys doing?"

Elliott immediately tenses up, and Jaeger feels like he has to defend him, somehow. "Nothing."

Santana shrugs. "OK," and disappears into the bathroom, where they hear her turning on the shower.

It takes a while for Elliott to start drawing, until he feels like they're safe again, and Jaeger tries to make him feel at ease, the way he does with everyone, by talking. He gestures to the picture in the book.

"Do you know what kind of beetle it is?"

"No," Elliott whispers.

"Why are you whispering?"

"I'm not," Elliott answers, voice normal.

"It's a tiger beetle. I'm gonna get it tattooed for real when I'm older. My mom has one just like it."

This is so astounding to Elliott that he immediately stops his tracing. "No, she doesn't."

"Yeah," says Jaeger, rather matter-of-factly. "Why would I lie about that?"

"I don't know," says Elliott, suddenly uncomfortable. "Moms aren't supposed to have tattoos, are they?"

"That's what my dad says. But I think it's cool."

At that moment, Santana comes out of the bathroom, hair dripping, wearing a cobalt blue halter top and tight white shorts.

"Mom, look." Jaeger gets up and goes to her, showing her the half-finished drawing on his forearm.

Santana looks strangely touched. "Oh, Jaeger. It's awesome. Did you draw it?"

"No, Elliott did."

Elliott is still on the corner of the bed, looking everywhere but at Santana. She grabs her son's arm and studies the drawing carefully, then heads over to the bed and sits net to Elliott. "It's a great drawing, Elliott. Thanks."

"It's not finished yet," Elliott whispers again. "And it's gonna fade, it's not a real tattoo."

Santana glances at it again. "Pity. It's much prettier than mine."

Elliott stares at her in spite of himself, and Jaeger smiles. "Show him, mom."

Santana laughs and rolls up her top a little. It's right on her ribs, similar to Jaeger's only smaller and not as bright.

Elliott gasps. "That must have hurt. It's right on your bone."

"I got it such a long time ago, I can't even remember anymore."

Jaeger turns to look at his mother. "You did?"

"Yeah."

"When?"

"When I was in high school."

Elliott is so taken aback by the whole situation that he's forgetting to be shy. "Is that a tiger beetle too?"

"Uh-huh."

"Why do you guys like those so much?" The question is directed at Jaeger, but all he does is turn to his mother for an answer. Santana smiles.

"Well, I think Jaeger likes them because I like them. And the reason I like them... well, we used to try to catch them when we were children."

"Who? You and Jake?"

"Yeah. In the summers, by the creek. That's how I got interested in science in the first place."

"Did you ever? Catch one, I mean," asks Elliott.

"No. They're very fast."

"I bet you I could catch one," says Jaeger loudly.

Santana laughs. "I bet you could. But you can't anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because there's very few of them left. You'd be extremely lucky to even see one."

Both boys go silent at that, and then Jaeger makes a strangled noise. "Can't you do something about it, mom?"

"I wrote about it some, but... I'm not sure there's a lot that can be done."

"Is that why you got the tattoo?" Elliott asks quietly.

"Yeah. In part."

"And what's the other part?"

"It... reminded me of my childhood. I got it before I left for college."

"Before you left Jake."

Santana nods. "He has one, too."

"Of a tiger beetle?"

"Yeah."

"Where?" Jaeger demands. "I've never seen it."

"On his back. You've never seen it because of-"

"Because of the uniform, I know."

There's a certain sad note to it all, one that Elliott guesses isn't only due to the imminent extinction of the tiger beetle. Santana shakes her head, shaking off her thoughts, and gets up. "I'm gonna go for a walk."

Elliott nods and Santana glances at him with something like deference. "You guys finish that tattoo, OK?"


	10. Chapter 10

When she comes back later they're gone, both of them. There is only a little black book left on her bed, and she picks it up mindlessly, before Sam can sit on it. He glances at it suspiciously but doesn't ask what it is, and Santana wonders if he remembers that she had many of them, years ago, when he first fell in love with her.

She wouldn't show him anyway, even if he asked, because she feels like she's protecting a seven-year old's secret, and what's more precious than that? She doesn't know how she knows that it's a secret, only that hers always were, and that when you're a kid like Elliott, everything always seems like a secret.

She steps out into the hallway, shutting the door quietly behind her. Book in hand, she sits outside, on the soft, carpeted floor. Everyone must still be downstairs at the pool, and she hopes that no one will come disturb her, or, even worse, realize she's about to look through a little boy's journal.

She would never do it if it was Jaeger's. But Jaeger's never even had a journal, because for her son everything is public and must be communicated immediately after it happens. He doesn't need one, the notion of privacy and secrets is unknown to him because he's never found either to be necessary, and honestly, Santana knows him so well that she wouldn't even need to read his journal if he did keep one. But she guesses that things aren't like this at Elliott's house, that whatever his situation is, it can't be so easy.

Elliott's pages have no words, which doesn't come as a surprise; she remembers Jaeger mentioning that he wasn't very good with them. Instead, they're all doodles and traces, marks and spots and prints; textures and colors that he must keep very hidden, because they seem nothing like the boy she talked to today. She thought she'd find plenty of drawings of beetles or insects, that was what sparked her curiosity, and she does find a few drawings of animals, but larger and more complex; bears and wolves and even mammoths.

In reality, Elliott's sketchbook is a scattering of everything, finished and unfinished. Some of the drawings make her smile, bored still lifes of shoes and furniture, the kind made by someone who obviously longs for but lacks a live model. Others, like the one of Quinn rubbing her forehead tiredly, are shockingly accurate for something that must have been constructed solely from memory; Santana would never in a million years imagine Quinn posing in such manner, and yet he's captured something so essential to his mother's character that Santana feels he must see her much more clearly than he lets on, certainly more clearly than Finn. How many ways there are, of knowing someone, even when they don't want you to?

She hears the elevator doors open, footsteps running down the hall, and shuts the book quickly, fearing she's been caught. And she has, only it's by the only person she would have had catch her, but even so, she feels guilty her son's caught her snooping. He's looking at her in disapproval, and she hangs her head.

"I shouldn't have, should I?"

"You know you shouldn't."

"I couldn't help it. I was curious. He draws animals so well."

Jaeger sits down next to her. "Yeah. Those were my favorite, too. I felt like I knew them from somewhere."

Santana smiles. "Maybe you do."

Jaeger extends out his hand and Santana reluctantly hands him the sketchbook. "Tell him I want him to draw something for me sometime."

Jaeger nods."You want me to tell him you looked through it too?"

"If you want."

"Maybe I will. It doesn't feel right, not telling him."

Santana nods and kisses the top of his head. "You're gonna go now?"

"No. I'll give it to him tomorrow. I wanna look through it some more."  
.................................................

"Does that boy have a tattoo?"

They're at a fancy restaurant, all of them, having dinner to celebrate the team's win. They make a pretty long table, so Santana's family is nowhere within earshot, but close enough to be able to see Jaeger's drawn-on arm from a distance.

The idea is so ridiculous that no one looks up from their food to explain this to Quinn, which only causes her to become louder; something that happens whenever she's ignored. "Finn, did you hear me? I think that kid has a tattoo."

Elliott feels instantly irritated, as he's beginning to feel quite often with his mother. Even Finn sighs.

"Quinn, I know you don't like Santana, but no one in their right mind would allow their seven year old to get a tattoo."

"They let that kid do whatever he wants, I wouldn't be surprised--"

Even Willow butts in this time. "He didn't have it during the game, I don't think he just went to a tattoo parlor right quick, and no one would risk tattooing a kid that young anyway."

But Quinn keeps squinting at Jaeger's arm, like she didn't hear anything. Willow sighs in exasperation. "Why don't you just go and ask them, if you're so curious?"

Elliott is so afraid she will actually do it that he speaks up. "It's not a tattoo, mom. It's a drawing." He thinks, for a minute, of Santana's tattoo, and decides, then and there, that he will never bring that subject up with anyone, not even Willow.

Quinn shakes her head. "You don't know that. It looks like a tattoo to me."

"I do know. I wouldn't be saying it if I didn't."

Quinn raises her eyebrows at his tone of voice. "And just how are you so sure?"

"Because I drew it on him."

It sounds like a confession, but for Elliott, it's not just one. The secret he had been holding on to so dearly is out, not in what he would have thought would be a big production, but instead, in the most mundane of ways. Willow is watching him with concern; she knows how badly Elliott had wanted to hold on to his one talent without having to share it, but he's just blurted it out, for no real reason. This, however, has flown right over his mother's head, but his father is looking at the picture on Jaeger's forearm with a lot more attention. "You drew that?"

"Yeah."

Finn makes eye contact with Jaeger and waves him over. "Jaeger, bud, can you come here a minute?"

The flush on Elliott's cheeks doesn't go unnoticed by Quinn, and Jaeger's intuition is just as keen, like he knows what they were talking about, because he extends his forearm out to Finn, who examines it closely. "That's really nice."

Jaeger nods as he catches Elliott's eye. "Elliott's a good drawer."

Quinn drums her manicured fingernails against the table top, for once not at all concerned about ruining them. "OK, I think Jaeger can go back to his seat now."

Jaeger looks straight at her, in that frank way he sometimes does, and she feels uncomfortable because even though his eyes are his father's, something in that look reminds her uncannily of his mother. He shrugs and goes back to his seat without a word, and Willow glares at her mother silently from her chair. Finn pats Elliott on the head. "Who taught you how to draw like that?"

But Elliott's quiet.

"He taught himself," Willow answers automatically.

Finn looks impressed. "How come you never--"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Finn shrugs, accustomed to his son's odd temper. "OK."

But Quinn is turning sharply toward her son.

"When did you draw that on him?"

"When you guys were in the pool."

"Where?"

"What do you mean where? It's on his arm."

"No, I mean where were you when you did it?"

"In his room."

"You went to his hotel room without asking for permission?"

"I didn't know I was supposed to."

Willow cuts in. "Why are you acting like he did something wrong? He didn't do anything."

"Of course you don't think so, that's why you're not his mother. Elliott, you don't know those people, something could have happened to you--"

"I... I didn't think--"

"Of course you didn't. And what is this with drawing on people's skin? You know that's what they do in jail?"

Willow raises her voice."Don't be ridiculous, how do you even know--"

But in a flash, Jaeger is back by Elliott's side. "They do do that in jail."

All of the Hudsons turn to look at him and he shrugs. "That doesn't mean it's wrong. It's just something they do to pass the time."

Quinn looks so mortified at the turn this conversation has taken that Elliott wishes he could somehow telegraph a signal to Jaeger, telling him to shut up. Only Jaeger never does. "I mean, it's something people have always done, cultures from way back. Even some mummies had tattoos." Finally, he takes a breath and pauses. "And we weren't going to hurt Elliott, by the way. My mom likes him and she thinks his drawings are cool."

"She's only ever seen one."

Jaeger shakes his head. "You left your sketchbook in the room."

Elliott should feel upset by this, that someone got a look at his sketchbook without permission, but he finds that he doesn't mind Santana seeing them, and knows he wouldn't feel the same way if it had been his parents.

Quinn looks back and forth between the two boys, then back at her son. "Your sketchbook?"

Jaeger cuts in. "Yes, his black sketchbook, the one where he keeps all his--"

"Shut up, Jaeger." He says it almost without meaning to and very low, but for Jaeger, who isn't used to being told to be quiet, it's wounding to the core. He blinks and fixes his eyes on Elliott, then heads back to his seat, the three words more effective than Quinn's earlier dismissal.

Quinn shows every intention of continuing with the interrogation of her son, but Finn lays a hand on her thigh, a clear message, and she stops. Elliott feels confused in a way he's never felt before, and wonders why, in all of this cross-examination, no one thought to ask him the questions he could answer most easily, without hesitation.

What did his skin feel like?

What kind of beetle was it?

Was it your best drawing ever?

Or, the one that's been in his head all day, the one that he doesn't have an answer to.

Why you? Why did he ask you?  
...........................

Quinn and Finn are lounging by the pool the next morning when Jaeger approaches, carrying a thick, black notebook in his arms. Finn smiles at him, but Quinn brings a hand to her forehead. In spite of it all, it is her Jaeger has a seat next to.

"You guys didn't know Elliott drew, did you?"

Finn glances at his wife, then shakes his head. "Elliott doesn't talk a whole lot."

"Yeah, I noticed. If I was as good as he is, I'd be telling everyone."

"Yeah, we don't doubt that," Quinn mutters.

"But you would think he would at least tell you guys."

This annoys Quinn to the core. "Do you tell your mom everything?"  
Jaeger's answer is plain with sincerity. "Yeah. And even when I don't tell her, she knows. She knows everything about me."

This stuns the Hudsons into silence, and finally, looking to break it, Finn gestures to the sketchbook Jaeger's carrying.

"What's that?"

"Elliott's sketchbook."

Quinn immediately reaches for it, but Jaeger doesn't budge, and Finn lays a hand on her arm.

"Quinn, I don't think he would want us to. Not without asking first."

The way Jaeger's hugging the sketchbook makes it look like he would have put up a fight for it anyway.

"Even Santana's seen it, Finn, and I can't look at something my own child did? He didn't seem to mind her looking at it."

She could care less what's in the sketchbook, really, it's only the feeling of being kept out that upsets her.

"I think he didn't mind because my mom is a stranger."

Finn turns to Jaeger. "Have you seen them?"

"Yeah."

"Did you ask him if you could?"

"No. He showed them to me."

"Oh."

"He's really good."

"I knew he'd find his thing. Sooner or later."

Jaeger nods and gets up. "I'm gonna go look for him. He'll want it back."

Once he's gone, Quinn turns to her husband. "I don't want that kid hanging out with Elliott, he's a bad influence on him."

"A bad influence how?"

"Elliott's keeping secrets from us."

"Somehow I think he's kept this one for longer than he's known Jaeger."

"And that thing he drew on him-"

"It was a beetle."

"That's not like him at all."

"That doesn't necessarily mean it's a bad thing, Quinn. You heard Jaeger."

"Yeah, it's kind of hard not to."

"I thought you wanted Elliott to make friends."

"Not those kinds of friends."

"You're acting like he's a juvenile delinquent. He's the son of one of my best friends. He's from a good family. I don't understand what the problem--"

"Sam does whatever she wants and you know it."

"Oh, so that's what this is about."

"This isn't about anything. I just want what's best for our son."  
.......................................

Santana is not a big believer in God. It's hard to be, when you've only ever had eyes for what's factual and real, and a son who's such a handful that he's the sun, the only at whose altar you've ever worshiped.

It is one of the things that attracted her to Sam, that even though he grew up in a religious family, and probably did believe in some form of deity, he never made the time to go to church. He wouldn't insist on a wedding, he was fine with shacking up, and he'd much rather spend Sunday mornings sleeping in than at church. He is, whoever, a social church goer, and adamant about going whenever his mother visits or when the occasion calls for it.

Apparently the occasion calls for it on Sunday, because the whole team is going to mass. Santana, not wanting to fight, agrees to go. They are, of course, late, after Sam makes her and Jaeger change twice because their clothes are not to his satisfaction.

Finn's family is sitting in one of the front pews, half of which they have saved for them, as evidenced by the way he keeps glancing back to see if they're coming. Santana, who walks in first, sees him but pretends not to, and has a seat in one of the back pews, next to Tina and her husband. Sam has no choice but to follow, and though he shoots Santana a supremely annoyed look once they've sat down.

Santana tries to pay attention to what's being said in the sermon, but for all her brains and schooling, none of this has ever made any sense to her. Sam seems to be taking it in stride, however, and Santana wonders if the peaceful look on his face is feigned or real. Nearing the end of service, she finds herself playing with Tina's daughter Tammy, who is adorable in ways Jaeger simply isn't.

By the end of it, both families walk out together, and are met at the entrance of the church

by a couple of the others. Finn sees Santana carrying Tammy and winks at her.

"Wishing you'd had one of your own?"

She frowns, confused. "One what?"

"A little girl."

Santana laughs. "Oh, no way. I wouldn't know what to do with a girl."

"That's what I thought, before we had Willow."

"And?"  
He laughs. "And I still don't know. But she stole my heart. Much like this little other one," he says, picking up his Daisy from the floor.

"What are y'all talking about?" asks Sam as he joins them.

"About how you need to start putting in extra hours, 'cause Santana wants a girl."

Sam frowns and turns to Santana. "You do?"

Their eyes meet and Santana knows they are in as much agreement as they seldom are about anything. They don't want another child. They can't have another child.

Finn laughs. "Don't tell me you don't want a little girl, Sam?"

"I can't say I don't, only... I think we have our hands full with Jaeger."

Would he have wanted a little girl?, Santana wonders. In other circumstances, in another life, with a different woman?

Finn shakes his head and kisses Daisy. "You guys should really give it some thought. They really are the sweetest things."

They all go silent at that, long enough to overhear what the group of women next to them is saying, commanded, of course, by Quinn.

"Yeah, we can meet there at ten."

Finn glances at his wife. "Meet for where?"

"That club that just opened downtown."

Santana butts in. "I thought you'd injured your foot."

Quinn shoots her an icy glare. "It's doing much better, thanks for your concern."

Finn grins. "My wife. Never one to miss an opportunity to go dancing."

Everyone laughs at that, even Quinn.

"So, who's going?"

"Everyone."

Finn glances pointedly at Sam and Santana, who seem to know nothing about this. Quinn glances at them, an afterthought.

"Oh, yeah. You guys can come, too."  
...................................

Tina sighs as they look through the endless racks of clothes at the boutique. "All my nice clothes are from before I had Tammy and none of them fit anymore. I haven't bought new ones because I don't want to stay like this."

Santana glances at her. "Your body's perfect, Tina."

"No. You should have seen me before. I was tiny. I feel like this isn't even me." She glances at Santana enviously. "I would've thought you had all sorts of nice clothes to go out."

"Nope. You're the first person I ever tell this to, but this is actually my first time going to a club."

Tina gasps. "But you're so pretty. And you were a model."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, aren't models supposed to go out to parties all the time and stuff?"

"Only if you want to."

"But why wouldn't you want to? If I had your body, I'd be showing it off."

Santana shrugs. "It was never my thing. I didn't model because I liked it, I did it to put myself through college." She plops down on a nearby armchair. "There aren't many things I find difficult, but shopping for clothes is definitely one of them."

Tina snorts. "Please. You could wear a paper sack and you'd look good." She pulls an orange dress from the rack. "What do you think?"

"I think neither of us is qualified to be shopping for ourselves." She waves over one of the store attendants, and, without getting up, gestures to Tina. "Miss Cohen-Chang and I are going out dancing to a very trendy club today and we have no idea what to wear. Would you be so kind as to help us?"


	11. Chapter 11

What the sales lady selected was nothing like what they would have picked out themselves. Santana feels oddly uncomfortable in it and remembers Tina's earlier words, about feeling not like herself. Everything about this night makes Santana feel not like herself, even Sam by her side, dressed in a crisp white shirt and a brand-new brown leather jacket that makes her feel as guilty as if she's bought it herself. The only thing she's OK with is Tina by her side. She insisted, to Sam's dismay, on meeting the Chang's outside so they could all walk in together. It is unlike her, but she feels like holding Tina's hand. She's so used to being her own rock, to never needing anybody, but this move and this life might yet be teaching her lessons on her own vulnerability, something she thought she was forever done with. One look at Tina's anxious face, however, clears up all her insecurities, and she smiles at her friend. "Come on. Let's go inside. It'll be fun."  
...................................

She's sitting at the bar next to Finn, sipping on a chocolate martini, the only drink she can actually stand because it's sweet, when Santana and Tina walk in, looking surprisingly sharp. Santana is wearing a long sleeved, glittering gold mini-dress, and as for Tina, well, Quinn thinks it might be the first time she's ever seen her look decent, in a charcoal gray peplum top and a fitted black skirt. And Santana must have done their makeup; if there's one thing she can admit to Santana doing well, it's that, a skill probably left over from her modeling days.

There are replays of the game playing on a screen on the other side of the bar, and the men quickly gather around it. Santana looks around the club. The first thing she spots is Quinn, the center of attention in a spectacular hot pink dress, with a plunging neckline and golden chains that hang off her back. The second thing she spots is the bar, where she quickly drags Tina, calling the bartender over.

"I'll have a shot of Patron and the lady will have a Manhattan. "

"Santana, I don't even know what that is."

"Don't worry. I have a feeling you're gonna learn a lot of new things tonight."

Daiquiri, margarita, whiskey sour, mint julep, cosmo; it's not long before they're all swimming together in Tina's head, to the point where she's not even sure which one's she's had and which ones she hasn't. Santana knows exactly which ones she's had and in what order; they haven't gone to her head yet, but they're about to. She watches the people living it up on the dance floor, Quinn Hudson among them, and even though it's fun and even pleasant, watching her dance, she can't shake off the feeling that she's in the wrong place at the wrong time, with all these men and women pushing a model of coupleship she's not sure she still believes in. The single scene makes her terribly uncomfortable; she never had to flirt with Sam, that was another reason she liked him. Things with him were easy; looking back, that had been the basis of his appeal. He'd assumed she was into him from the start, there was no playing games or beating around the bush. Everything had been practical and sensible, just the way she liked it, even if, now, she finds Sam's assumptions a little revolting. The thought only makes her down another drink; she might not be an expert at this life, but the drinking part she's got down; it's a family thing.

More people are huddled in front of the TV now, as the game nears to an end. It's not the first time the players have watched it, but Santana thinks it must be exciting, to see yourself replayed over and over when you did everything you were supposed to, when you came out victorious. Mike and Sam wave her and Tina over, wanting to watch the ending together, and Santana finds that she has to hold on to Tina just to keep her on her feet as they cross the room. She feels a pang of regret that she allowed, no, encouraged, her friend to get this trashed.

They get there seconds before it's over, and Tina breaks into loud cheering. Everyone turns to look at her. Mike's expression is somewhere between cringing and amusement, until Tina finally collapses into a chair and admits that "she can't do this anymore."

He puts an arm around her and turns to the rest of them. "It's late. I think we're gonna head back to the hotel."

A couple of the others nod in agreement, and as Santana watches the flock flee, she realizes she doesn't want to go. Quinn Hudson is getting up too, and it is her wrist Santana catches when trying to get things to stay put.  
................................

Quinn is trying to make her way through the crowd when she feels the softest, tenderest skin grazing hers, and stops dead on her tracks. Santana's voice is soft, too, and slurred.

"Don't."

Her first reaction is to shake her off, but Santana's fingers are warm around her wrist, and she's obviously intoxicated. Quinn thought that, at some point in her life, she had run out of pity, but finds tonight it isn't so.

"Don't what?"

"Don't go."

"I wasn't going to. I'm usually the last one left standing at these things."

"Really?"

Quinn shrugs. "Yeah. I like a good party."

From the corner of her eye, Santana can see Sam watching her as she talks to Quinn, giving her a small nod of approval. He follows the rest of the guys to the bar, and Santana half-wonders if she should go too, and get herself another shot, just to piss him off.

Apparently she's said that out loud, because Quinn's sniggering at her a little.

"I take it wouldn't be your first one."

Santana glances at the martini Quinn's still sipping on. "I take that's yours."

Quinn smiles in spite of herself, immediately finding the drunk Santana much easier to bear, both because it's hard to find her superior, and because there is a high chance that she won't remember whatever it is that happens tonight.

"Been nursing it for the past two hours. I don't really like alcohol."

"You can't not like alcohol. No one can. That just means you haven't had the right thing to drink."

She grabs Quinn's martini and swallows it down in a gulp. "Yuck," then grabs a bartender passing by the hand. "Two Hurricanes, please."

The color of the drinks is an echo of Quinn's dress, and she takes a large sip that makes her cough and splutter. Santana laughs.

"Jesus, Santana, what the hell is in this?"

Santana raises her eyebrows at the choice of words. "You talk like this in front of Finn?"

Quinn ignores her. "I'm not drinking this."

"Bacardi 151. Shit's so strong it's flammable."

It strikes Quinn as hilarious, and so she laughs, and pretty soon Santana is laughing too and Quinn feels dizzy, maybe because she's drunk, maybe because she can't remember when was the last time she laughed so much. She sips on it again and Santana looks at her face expectantly. "So?"

"So it's not bad? I think?"

"Wait 'til you've had a couple more, then you'll see how good they are."

She wonders, for a minute, if she should feel guilty about this. Like it wasn't bad enough, getting Tina drunk, now she's doing it with the crown jewel, but somehow, this seems a lot different.

Finn can see them getting wasted from the other side of the club, but doesn't mind. He thinks that this might be how girls like Santana bond, and it's what he wanted, and it's fine. It's only one night.

Quinn, looking for something to say and feeling the alcohol reveling in her blood, finally admits something that's been bugging her all night. "I like your dress."

Santana scoffs. "Please. It's nothing compared to yours."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means nothing, OK? Why the fuck do you always have to take everything the wrong way? It just means you look good."

"Oh. Thanks. Finn picked it out."

"I guess there's something to be said for letting the person you fuck pick out your clothes."

"What?"

"I said-"

"Yeah, I heard what you said, you don't need to repeat it."

There is a slight blush on her cheeks and Santana quirks an eyebrow at her. "What is it that you're objecting to, exactly?"

"I've no interest in talking about that stuff with you."

"About what stuff? Fucking?"

"Yes."

"For some reason I get the impression you don't talk about it with anybody."

"You're right, I don't."

"Why?"

"Because it's personal, and it's inappropriate."

"Do you even talk to Finn about it?"

"Stop it. Stop it or I'll leave."

Santana's eyes linger on her for a minute, but then she shrugs and drops it. They turn to the dance floor, watching people move, and Santana suddenly feels like watching Quinn among them. "You're all danced out? Hearing people talk, you'd think you had more stamina."

"I have plenty of-"

"I know, I've seen you, remember?"

Quinn flushes. "I'm just taking a break."

The song comes to an end and another one starts up, making Santana smile. "Jaeger loves this song."

Quinn frowns a little. "He does?"

"Yeah. It's one of his favorites to dance to."

Maybe it's the drinking, but Quinn says what she swore she wouldn't. "He's really talented, you know. More than anyone I've seen that age."

Santana shrugs. "He's being doing it for a while."

"Since when?"

"Four."

Quinn's eyes widen. "Whose idea was it?"

Santana rolls her eyes. "His, of course. I'm completely graceless, it would have been the last thing I would have ever thought of, even if he'd been a girl."

"What does Sam say?"

"He doesn't like it, but... Jaeger plays soccer and softball too, so I guess it balances out in his mind."

Almost as if he had heard his name, Sam joins them, drink in hand. Santana can't pretend to be too pleased, and neither can Quinn, though, she tries to remind herself that this man is kind, that this is the man who helped her.

Their conversation dies down and they order another round of drinks. For once, Sam letting Santana drink to her heart's content. Finn and the rest of the team join them soon after, and Santana realizes with a start that her and Quinn are the only two women left; the rest must have already gone back to the hotel. This makes them the middle of the circle, and Quinn suddenly feels hot and trapped, in a position she never asked to be. She tries to whisper as much to Finn, but he only cups a hand around his ear and shouts. "What, hon? I can't hear you."

She's drank so much she can feel her voice breaking. "I'm gonna go dance. Wanna come?"

But Finn shakes his head. "I think I'm done for the night. Why don't you take Santana?"

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Sam chimes in.

"Take me where?"

"To the dance floor."

Quinn's actually looking at Santana hopefully; the idea of going up there alone and drunk is not very comforting.

"No fucking way. I don't dance."

Finn grins. "That's right, I forgot. Well, my wife's a really good teacher."

She would never agree to this in her right state of mind, but Quinn's already coiling her fingers around her hand and next thing she knows, she's stumbling on to the floor.

"You know, even if I wasn't piss drunk, I wouldn't be able to do this."

"Do what? I'm not asking you to do anything extraordinary. Just move your feet from side to side."

Quinn's swaying in front of her and her eyes are closed, and Santana tries to follow the rhythm of her feet. One, two, one, two. She feels wobbly in these heels she never wears, but Quinn's hand is light on her hip, keeping her steady. "That's good. You're doing good," and Santana closes her eyes too and revels in the pleasure of hearing those words that she doesn't think she's ever heard in her life.

“Your foot seems like it's doing better.”

“What?”

Santana points to Quinn's feet. “Your foot. It's better.”

“Oh, yeah. I heal pretty quickly.”

Santana wonders how many things she's had to heal from to know that, and if she's as quick to heal from other types of pain. The slow beat of their song uncannily turns into a fast one in a matter of seconds, and they both open their eyes, startled. Santana is about to make a run for it, but Quinn stops her. "Come on, don't tell me you don't know how to dance to this."

"It's hip-hop, of course I don't." She pauses for a minute. "Do you?"

"Oh, I can dance to anything."

It reminds her strangely of Jaeger, and she smiles. "Show me."

It takes nothing to have Quinn swaying from side to side in seconds, like she was born to do this, and undoubtedly she was. Santana feels like she's the only one who knows this, but it is evident everyone in this club tonight does, too. She's sexy, and they're all watching her, and Santana feels so out of place, like she's only blocking the view, that she steps back, ready to move, but then Quinn's holding on to her, and Santana feels like she's frozen on the spot. She doesn't know if Quinn's ever danced like this on Finn, but here she is, running her hands all over Santana like she does it every day, and pressing her body to hers in grinds and humps. She must look terrified, because Quinn whispers in her ear. "It's OK, it's a game, lighten up."

And maybe it's because they're both drunk and that makes everything all right, but pretty soon Santana's swaying with her too, and then they're putting on a show, and for what feels like the first time in her life, Santana doesn't mind being the center of attention, because with this woman, she feels powerful.

It's a game, just the two of them amidst all these people, a game that makes Quinn forget she has a husband and that he's standing in this very room. They're both watching, Finn and Sam, grinning along with everyone else, because they thought Santana hated dancing, because these women might yet become friends, and because the whole thing is hot as fuck.

Sam's loud whistling makes Santana feel a pang of annoyance, but for Quinn, it splits everything down the middle. She looks up, startled, and then at Santana, like she doesn't even know her. She looks across the room, at Finn, who is smiling like it's OK, but nothing is OK, nothing might ever be OK again, because something just tore and she knows it. She stumbles off the floor and takes off her heels, and Santana is left there, watching her with something like concern, and when their eyes meet Quinn feels like she's losing her balance, and she can't, she won't lose her footing again. She runs outside, barefoot into the cold night, and Santana wants to chase after her, to find her, but she can't, because Finn's already beaten her to it.


	12. Chapter 12

Santana always feels guilty after drinking, which is why she hardly ever does it. She can see herself, almost turning into her mother, and the thought of losing Jaeger, of ever having to leave Jaeger is so scary, it sets her straight. She's sort of upset with Sam, for letting her drink so much, for not keeping an eye on her the way he said he would when they made the commitment to stay together all those years ago. But he doesn't bring it up, and neither does she.

When they get to the hotel room, Jaeger is already asleep, taking up the bed from side to side and half-covered in blankets because the AC in the room is turned so high up. She glances at Sam and they shrug, neither willing to move their son. Sam grabs a bunch of pillows, sheets and towels from the closet and lays them on the floor instead; their own makeshift bed. They lay down with their backs to each other and Santana sighs heavily.

"You have fun?"

"No."

"First time I've ever seen you dance."

"Not true. I danced with Finn at the gala."

"Yeah, but this was different."

She can't deny it, so she's just silent.

"You think you'll remember any of it tomorrow?"

So he remembers how it is then, how the last times she got drunk, before Jaeger, she lost entire hours, entire nights, everything.

"I hope not."

Sam nods. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"It's fine, Sam. Like you said, it'll all be gone in the morning."

So she tries to stay awake as long as possible, she'd do it forever if she could, just to make sure she'd remember.  
.....................................

Quinn has no problem remembering, though that's in itself a problem, when one has so many things that need to be put away. So that she does, each and every time, memories tucked into little compartments not to be opened again. She had hoped this wouldn't be the case with last night, she had hoped that the alcohol would put everything to rest, but when she wakes up, at sunrise, she finds the memories still there, jabbing at her sharply. She sits up,hugs her legs to her chest, takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. I will not think about this again, I will not think about this again, I will not think about it again.

Finn gets up while she's at it, but she's so focused she doesn't even notice, and he stares at her, wondering what she's up to now. He never seems to know what his wife is thinking, but she's got such an intense, focused look on her little face, that he can only guess what it must be that she's willing away. He kisses her furrowed brow and Quinn opens her eyes, startled.

"You all right?"

"Yeah. I was just-"

"It's fine," he says with a small smile. "I know."

"You do?" She looks into her husband's eyes, surprised. She finds traces of the old pain still there and realizes, with a pang, that there is no way he would know, that she has a new one now.  
...................................

"Jaeger? Jaeger? Where are you?"

She feels like she's had this nightmare before, probably because of her son's propensity for getting lost, and in her still hazy mind, she's blaming it all on her drinking. By the time she woke up, Jaeger was already long gone. She looked for him in the pool and by the lobby, but he was nowhere to be found. She's not worried yet, hasn't even woken up Sam; Jaeger has so many friends amongst the team's children that he could be in any of their rooms, although she suspects she will have to check Elliott's first.

Whatever it was that happened with Quinn last night is still fuzzy in her head, but she knows there must be a reason she's so reluctant about knocking on that particular door. As a matter of fact, the only thing that would make her do it is exactly the reason she's doing it: Jaeger.

She makes her way down the hall and, taking a deep breath, knocks on the door. She hears a crash from within and then the door opens a little bit and Elliott peeks out, looking visibly relieved.

"Oh, it's just you."

He opens the door wider and she steps inside. "Are you looking for my mom?"

"Uh, no, actually. Are you alone?"

"Yeah."

"Where is everybody?"

"They went out for ice cream after dinner."

"Jesus, what time is it?"

"Like seven."

Santana brings a hand to her forehead. "I slept the whole day. And now I can't find Jaeger."

"He's over at the Lawrenson's. They're playing videogames."

Santana is about to ask why Elliott's not with them when she spots a toy oven and some dishes swept hastily under the bed.

"Those yours?"

He tenses up immediately and shuts the door behind her. "Of course not. They're Daisy's. Boys don't have ovens."

Santana laughs. "I'm sure there's some that do."

Elliott frowns at her. "Like who?"

"I don't know. Those that want to be chefs or something. Or maybe they just like them."

"I don't wanna be a chef."

"So you just like ovens, then?"

Elliott shrugs. "I guess."

Santana nods and heads for the door. "I'm gonna go look for Jaeger. I'll see you later."

"Santana, I mean, Mrs. Evans-"

"Santana's fine."

Elliott blushes, but looks up at her determinedly. "Please don't tell my mom."

"Tell her what?"

"That you saw me playing with... she doesn't like for me to play with Daisy's toys."

"Is she afraid you'll break them?"

"No. She says they're for girls."

"Oh."

Elliott is looking down at the floor and Santana feels angry with Quinn, suddenly.

"You know, there aren't really things for boys and things for girls, Elliott."

"My mom says there are."

"Well, some people think so, but... has Jaeger told you he dances ballet?"

Elliott looks so surprised Santana thinks he might topple over. "He does?"

"Yeah. He's in one of your mom's classes, actually."

"Really? She never mentioned it."

"Yeah, I figured."

"Won't Jaeger be mad that you told me?"

"I don't think so. I'm surprised he didn't tell you himself. You can ask him about it, if you want."

"Ewww, no. I hate ballet."

Santana laughs and glances at the little cupcakes still in the oven. "Any chance you'll share?"

"You really wanna try them? My sisters never want to. I always end up eating everything myself."

Santana shrugs. "I haven't eaten a thing all day."

They sit on the floor, across from each other. Elliott carefully places two cupcakes on a plate for Santana and watches her eat.

"Y'all came back pretty late, didn't you?"

"Yeah. How did you know?"

"Oh, I can't sleep when my parents are away."

He thinks he might have overshared, but Santana is nodding as if this made perfect sense. She's about to ask for another cupcake when they hear footsteps coming down the hall and a knock on the door. Elliott tries to put everything away quickly, but Santana shakes her head and whispers. "It's OK, I got it."

The knocking becomes more insistent, and finally, she gets up and opens the door.  
................................

Quinn wonders if thinking and thinking about something can cause you to conjure it up. Out of thin air, apparently, because now Santana's here, in her own room, like a fantasy she didn't know she had, of opening doors and finding her there, always.

"What are you doing here?"

Santana looks startled at her tone of voice. "I was-"

But Quinn's already pushing past her and into the room, where the oven are dishes are scattered about the floor. "What is all this?"  
Santana feels immediately defensive of Elliott, and she steps in front of him protectively. "I came looking for Jaeger and then I saw Daisy's oven and I asked Elliott if I could use it to make something. I didn't think you'd be back so soon."

Quinn is looking back and forth between her and Elliott suspiciously, and Santana breaks the silence. "Oh, come on. I never had one as a child, OK? Is it that weird that I'd want to use it?"

Quinn shrugs. "I don't know."

"Did you have one when you were little?"

"I had everything I wanted when I was little."

"I bet you still do."

Quinn turns to Elliott sharply. "Elliott, please pick up all of that stuff and leave us alone for a bit. And shut the door behind you."

He nods, knowing better than to argue, and dumps everything into the nearest empty suitcase. He shoots Santana a grateful glance before exiting. Santana fixes her eyes on Quinn.

"What's wrong?"

"That you're exactly the person I didn't want to see, and I come and find you in my room."

She doesn't realize what she's saying until it's out, but even as it is, she finds it to be unequivocally true, even if she's not sure why. Seeing Santana makes her feel unsettled in a way she hasn't felt in years, and she doesn't welcome the reminder.

"Quinn, look, I... I'm not a good a drinker, so, whatever I did last night, I apologize."

Quinn's eyes, liquid and slippery, are wide on her. "You mean you don't remember?"

"I remember we were drinking together and talking, and..."

Quinn almost feels like stomping her foot on the ground, the way Daisy does when she's upset. "It's not fair."

"What isn't?"

That you can't remember and I can't forget. "Nothing."

"Jesus, the way you're acting, I wish I remembered."

"I wish you did, too." But it's not true, because even if she could remember, it wouldn't make any difference.

"Any chance you'll tell me?"

"No."

"I... always forget things. After I drink."

"Lucky you."  
.......................................

Finn offers Quinn the aisle seat on the plane this time, but she she declines as soon as she sees Santana having a seat right across from them. Santana tries to pretend she didn't notice what just happened, and smiles at Finn when he finally sits down, after making sure all the children and his wife are strapped in and comfortable, Quinn in the farthest seat possible, wearing earplugs and a sleeping mask.

"Never a moment's rest, huh?"

He laughs. "Nope. I've been up since five."

"You go running today?"

"Yeah. Didn't see you out there."

Santana shakes her head. "I overslept. It's the first day in years I don't go out running."

Finn nods. "Yeah, I can tell. You're very good. You ever think about competing?"

"I've been in a couple of marathons here and there. There's one coming up, actually."

"The one for the university?"  
"Yeah. You going?"

"I wasn't thinking about it, but if you're going, it might be fun."

"I can sign you up, if you want."

Finn nods. "Yeah, sure. Count me in."  
..........................................

And just like that, they're back home, and everything's back to normal, and Quinn can hardly believe it. The turmoil she's felt the past couple of days feels like it might finally begin to settle, because at home, her mundane life takes care of erasing any feeling out of the ordinary, like that nervous beating in her chest that she had begun to think was becoming part of her.

She feels almost like she needs another vacation to recover from the emotional exhaustion from this one, and she tells Finn as much. He laughs; for him there's no vacation, he has training from nine to nine, and Willow and Elliott have to go back to school. She spends the whole day in bed with Daisy, switching the TV channels repeatedly, from one nondescript reality show to the next, and then Dora the Explorer, until she falls asleep.

It's late afternoon when Daisy wakes her for ballet class. Elliott and Willow are already home and there's a pouring thunderstorm outside. Quinn sighs. It's no longer time, to ask Puck to come and get them; her parents' house is too far away, so she phones her husband instead.

"Finn?"

"Yeah. What's wrong?"

"Well, it's raining pretty hard here, and Daisy and I can't walk to ballet and it's too late to call Puck."

"OK?"

"So I was wondering if you could give us a ride?"

"We're in the middle of training, Quinn. I can't just get up and leave."

"Oh. OK. It's just that I didn't want to have to call and cancel, you know how Daisy gets."

"Why don't you ask Willow to take you?"

Willow's been driving herself and her brother to and from school now, which has been a big relief, because it eases the pressure off Finn, and Puck, too, because he had to drive them when Finn was away.

Quinn wonders why she didn't think of asking her, and maybe the thought did cross her mind, but she must have set it aside immediately. She's never even been in the car with her daughter ever since Willow learned how to drive.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"I bought that car for you, you know."

"I don't think she realizes that."

"She's your daughter. I don't think she's going to refuse you a favor."

"If it's my car, then it's not really asking for a favor, is it? Only she'll think it is."

She can hear Finn's heavy sigh on the other end of the line. "I'll ask her, if you want. Let me talk to her."

"No. Call her cell phone. Otherwise she'll think I put you up to it."

He sighs again. "Fine, Quinn. Have a good time in class."

..........................................

 

"Mom?"

"Yeah?" Santana quickly shuts the biology book she was perusing as she hears Jaeger come into the kitchen.

"You know I have ballet today, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Dad's out training, remember? He can't take me."

"Shit."

"What?"

"Nothing, I just... I'd forgotten. Do you have to go?"

Jaeger frowns. "I don't have to. But you haven't been to any of my classes here, I thought you'd want to come."

Santana gets up. "You're right. I'm being stupid. Let's go."

................................

 

"You could have asked me yourself, you know. Did you think I was gonna say no?"

They're driving to class, and they're already late, and Willow's attitude is not improving Quinn's general mood.

"You make it sound like I'm scared of you."

"Are you? Ms. Jones used to think you were. Is that why you had her fired?"

"You really think I'm important enough to get someone fired at my beck and call?"

"No. But the PTA is, and we all know what a big-shot you are there."

"That's enough, Willow. You should be grateful you have a mother who is involved-"

"Yeah, well, I'm not."

Willow drives entirely too fast for her taste, but Quinn feels like saying something would be pushing her luck. The car brakes abruptly into a parking spot right in front of the community center. Quinn reaches into the back seat for her stuff, where Daisy's fast asleep.

"Daisy, come on, we're late. We gotta go."

She tries shaking her, but Daisy won't wake up, and finally, Willow sighs. "Go. I'll wake her and meet you inside."

Quinn nods and rushes off.

....................................................

Inside the classroom, all her students are warming up. At the door, she runs into Santana. She feels her stomach flip, and, trying to ignore it, sits down on the hardwood floor to tie her slippers on. Santana clears her throat and Quinn has no choice but to acknowledge her, without looking up.

"Must I run into you everywhere I go?"

Santana moves in closer to her, just as Quinn is getting up.

"You think I showed up just to see you, don't you? Well, I didn't. I've seen everything there is to see, remember?"

Quinn flushes.

"I came to see my son dance, I hope that's OK with you."

"I don't seem to be able to stop you."

Santana sighs. "I don't know how many times you want me to apologize for something I can't even remember doing... I've actually thought about asking Finn what was."

"Finn doesn't know anything about this."

"I mean, I asked Sam about that night, and he said we were dancing, and then you ran out."

"I had a headache."

"And I suppose that was my fault?"

"I never said-"

She doesn't realize how close to each other they're standing until Willow comes and stands next to them, dragging Daisy by the hand.

"What's going on?"

Quinn's so startled she nearly jumps out of her skin. "What?"

"What were you guys talking about?"

Santana turns to look at Willow. "Not that it's any of your business, but we were talking about my son."

If any other person had talked to her daughter the way Santana just did, Quinn knows she would have jumped at their throat. Willow knows this too, knows that even though they don't get along, her mother is always on her side. Except that this time, for some reason, she's quiet, and her mother is hardly ever quiet. Quinn's thankful that the nature of their relationship won't allow Willow to ever bring this up, for fear it will look like she actually cares.

She feels relief at Santana's response until she realizes that the fact that she lied means there's something to hide, and that they're in it together now, sharing something. And Quinn, who thought Santana Lopez would be the last person in the world she would ever share something with, is finding out she doesn't mind it at all.


	13. Chapter 13

"Finn, I think I want to try to learn how to drive again."

It's almost worth saying it just to see the beaming look on his face. He takes her out to practice that very afternoon, explaining the basics all over again, and Quinn thinks it must be the twentieth time they've gone over them, but he's acting as if it was the first.

After two weeks of constant practice, she's driving on her own again, reaching the point she's reached so many times before; on the brink of telling everyone she finally, finally, knows how to drive, but still not certain she can do it on her own, alone in a car, without Finn by her side.

"Of course you can, Quinn."

"What if something happens?"

"I don't care about the car. You know I don't care about the car."

"What if run over someone?"

"Quinn, running over someone is actually a lot more difficult than you think."

"Wanna bet?"

"That's what the brakes are for, hon."

Quinn sighs. "Finn."

"Yeah?"

"I wish the world made as much sense as you make it seem."

................................................

"Hudson residence."

"Yes, hello, can I speak to Finn, please?"

"May I ask who's calling?" Oh, who is she kidding? She knows exactly who this is. But it still takes her aback; this might be the first time she has ever heard a woman's voice asking for her husband on the phone.

"Santana Lopez."

"And what is this regarding?"

"Seriously? It's not about you, if that's what you're thinking."

Finn, who is next to her in bed, frowns. "Who is that?"

"Santana. She wants to talk to you."

"Well, hand me the phone, then."

She does so, reluctantly, and pretends not to care as Finn gets up and takes it into the next room. She can hear him laughing and it's irritating, because she thinks they might be laughing at her, but has to admit that those two seem to need no reason to laugh together, at everything.

She won't stop staring at him when he comes back, and finally she bursts with it. "What did she want?"

Finn smiles. "I was wondering how long you were gonna be able to hold that in. It was nothing, really."

"You don't call a married man's house this late at night for nothing."

"She's signed me up for the university marathon in two weeks."

"What? Without asking you?"

"Oh, no, she asked me."

"When?"

"During the trip."

When did I ever let those two out of my sight during the trip?, Quinn wonders. "And you said yes?"

"Yeah. It sounds like fun."

"But Finn, you could get injured."

"It's not really any different from what I do every morning, Quinn."

"I know, but-"

"If you don't want me to do it, I won't."

"When did I say that?"

He shrugs.

"Finn, when have I ever tried to stop you from doing something you wanted to do?"

"You're right, I'm sorry." He pauses. "I'm not actually running it with her, you know."

"I never said-"

"I know you didn't. I just want you to know. She's much faster than I am, anyway."

"OK."

"And we don't even train together or anything. I mean, I run into her in the mornings, but-"

"It's OK, Finn. I know that."

"I'm just saying. In case you didn't."

"Well, I do. And let's not talk about it anymore."

......................................

 

The ringing of the phone is usually a happy occasion for Quinn, who is the recipient of most calls. Today, though, she sighs, remembering how the last phone call she picked up went.

She half-expects to hear Santana's voice again, but instead, she hears that of an unknown male, asking for Willow. Quinn stiffens at the sound of her daughter's name on these strange lips.

"Who is this calling?"

"Axel."

"Axel. Do you have a last name?"

"Fisher." It doesn't sound like a last name she's heard before, which can't be good.

"Are you a classmate of Willow's?"

"Uh, no. Not exactly. We met at battle of the bands."

"Battle of the bands?"

"Yes. Uh, is she home or not?"

Quinn hangs up the receiver and rushes off to find her husband. He's in bed, reading the paper.

"Finn?"

"Yeah?"

"What's a battle of the bands?"

He frowns, putting down his newspaper. "It's like a concert where rock bands compete, isn't it?"

"I don't know, Finn, that's why I'm asking you."

"Well, why do you wanna know?"

"Because, whatever it is, your daughter was apparently there."

"Willow? No way. When?"

"That's what we're about to figure out."

They go knock on her door, both of them, and she's none too happy when she opens it and sees them standing there. "What do you guys want?"

Finn gestures to the inside of the room. "Can we come in?"

Willow shrugs and lets them in. Quinn hasn't been allowed in her daughter's bedroom in such a long time that she has trouble recognizing the place. It used to be decorated in pale pink and purple; she can still see some of the paint underneath the multiple band posters Willow has pasted on the walls. She glances at her husband, but he's unfazed. Apparently, she's the only one who hadn't seen it.

"So, what is this about?"

Finn clears his throat. "Your mother received an... odd phone call yesterday."

"OK?"

Finn delivers the words slowly, almost as if he were pained to have to say them at all. "It was a boy, asking for you, and-"

"If he was asking for me, then the call wasn't for mamma, was it? What did he want?"

"Uh, Willow, sweetie, that's beside the point."

"Not really, though. I have a right to know what my phone call-"

Quinn interrupts. "And we have a right to know what you were doing at a battle of the bands concert."

Willow's all frankness. "I was playing with my band."

Quinn can see the beginnings of a smile toying at Finn's lips. "And when was this?"

"Friday afternoon. We won, by the way. In case anybody cares."

"You were supposed to be at piano practice."

Willow shrugs. "Does it matter? It's still music."

"What instrument?"

Both Quinn and her daughter both turn to look at Finn like he's crazy.

"Drums."

He bursts out laughing, so hard that he scares the both of them, until Quinn turns to him sharply. "Finn, what is wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry, it's just that-"

Sensing that this conversation is not going to go her way, Quinn grabs her husband by the arm and leads him out the room, not before fixing her daughter with a deathly glare. "We're not done with this conversation."

Willow rolls her eyes at her boredly and shuts the door behind them.

..............................

"I can't believe you. What kind of authority are you supposed to have over her when- "

"Oh, come on, Quinn, I didn't mean... It's just, I used to play the drums in high school."

"No, you didn't."

"Yup. Before I met you."

"At your other school?"

"Yeah. I dropped it for football when I moved here." He pauses. "But sometimes I wish I'd kept going."

"No way, Finn. But you're so successful."

"I know, and I'm grateful for what I have, but-"

"If you'd been a drummer in a band, we would have never been together."

Finn raises his eyebrows. "Oh, really? You wouldn't have dated me?"

"Of course not."

"Why?"

"For the same reason I don't want Willow involved in that kind of thing."

"And what reason is that?"

"It's just not... Finn... What would my mother say?"

He laughs. "She would have had a heart attack. But I like to think you would have loved me anyway."

She wants to think so, too, but she's not so sure. Part of her love for Finn stems from the fact that he's so perfect for her, but she's not sure how big a part yet.

"I'm not going to tell her not to, Quinn."

For some reason, the past couple of days, her husband has been feeling like he's very far away.

.........................

 

Millie's unwrapping a large package that just came in the mail when Finn enters.

"What's that?"

"Running shoes," she says as she sets them on the kitchen table. Finn squints at them. "Yours?"

"No. Miss Quinn's."

They're cute, pale pink and neon orange with turquoise shoe laces, but not the kind of shoes his wife usually wears. She comes in, smiling brightly when she sees them on the counter. "Oh, they are nice, aren't they, Millie?"

Millie smiles back at her, it's impossible not to, and Finn puts an arm around her. "Very. Not your usual style, but nice nevertheless."

"They're totally my style, Finn, they're pink."

"No, what I mean is... you never wear sneakers."

"Yes, I do."

"Only when you go to gym."

"They're not for the gym. They're for the marathon."

"What marathon?"

"The university marathon."

A strangled noise escapes Finn's throat. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope," says Quinn, flashing him a grin. "I signed up yesterday."

"But, Quinn, you don't even run."

"I run every day."

"Yeah, on a treadmill. That's not the same thing."

"It can't be that different."

"It kind of is."

"I'm sure I can handle it, Finn, I'm in good shape."

"I know you are, but-"

"You're acting like I'm some sort of fat, lazy housewife. Do you not want me to go or something?"

"No, Quinn. I'd love it if you came, actually. I just want you to know what you're getting yourself into."

"I do."

"OK."

"OK."

....................................

Finn's words linger on her mind for days. She usually hates admitting when she's wrong, but her husband is so gracious that it's never too difficult to admit things to him.

"Finn, do you think I need a personal trainer?"

"A personal trainer? What for?"

"For the marathon."

"Quinn, the marathon is like a week away."

"I know, but, I don't know, what if you're right and-"

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry if I put doubts in your head."

"It's not that, I mean, you might be right, and-"

"You can still back out of it if you want."

"No. I wanna commit to something, for once in my life."

His face twists into a proud gesture. "OK, then. If you really want to, I can train you myself."

"Really?", she gasps, surprised but delighted. "Why didn't I think of that?" Then her face falls. "Oh, but Finn, not in the mornings."

"Why not?"

"I can't get up that early."

He laughs. "I can talk to Coach Nolan about letting me out early next week. We can do it then."

Quinn hugs her husband, and he's struck by how atypical it is, her initiating physical contact.

"I love you, Quinn."

"I love you, too."

..............................................

Finn enters Willow's room late at night, when his wife is asleep but when he knows his daughter will be awake. She is, on her laptop, wearing the headphones that make her head look three sizes too big. She looks up at her father, wide-eyed, and Finn sits down at the foot of her bed as she takes off her headphones.

"So, I think I owe you an explanation."

Willow rolls her eyes. "You're not supposed to explain things to me, you're my father."

"Which is exactly why I need to explain things to you."

"OK. Go on."

"So, about the rock band-"

"I was wondering when that was gonna come up. Did mamma send you?"

"Shhh, Willow. Hear me out."

"Sorry. Go on."

"The reason I laughed so hard when you brought up the drums is that I used to play when I was younger."

"You?"

He laughs. "That hard to believe, huh?"

She squints at him, trying to picture it. "Yeah."

He squints back. "Honestly, I have just as hard a time picturing you playing them."

They grin at each other. "Who taught you?"

"Friends. You?"

"Life."

"Were you in a band?"

"No. I was in glee club."

Willow snorts. "Oh, it all makes sense now."

Finn laughs. "Does it?"

"No. I can't picture you as a geek either."

"What's the name of your band?"

"Fossil Fuel."

"Very cool."

"Thanks. I picked it out myself."

"I figured."

"So you're not gonna make me drop it?"

He sighs. "I talked to your mother about it."

"And?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

"She doesn't want me to be in it, I know."

"Is it important to you?"

"Daddy, no one who doesn't think music isn't important starts a band."

He nods. "You are going to have to be on your best behavior."

Willow nods eagerly.

"That means being nice to your mother."

"Yeah, OK."

"I know you think this is because of me, but it's not. If your mother hadn't agreed, you wouldn't be doing it."

"I understand. Can I take my car to practice?"

"Your mother's car. And only if you ask her first."

"But she doesn't even-"

"I don't care, it's still hers."

"You think she'll ever be able to drive it?"

"Yes," he says, and his voice is unwavering.

They look at each other, and he's struck by the bittersweet look on his daughter's face, identical to Quinn's. "What is it?"

"I feel like you're letting me grow up."

"Isn't that what you want? Isn't that what every teenager wants?"

Willow nods resolutely. "Yes. I just didn't think it would happen so soon."

"So you'd rather stay a little girl?"

Willow smiles. "You know that's impossible, Daddy. Even if you wanted me to."

"I don't. Believe it or not, it's your mother who's struggling with it."

"Yes. Mamma always loved the little me more than the actual me."

"The little you was a lot nicer to her."

She sighs. "I'm gonna try."

"Good."

..........................................

She's getting dinner on the table the next day when Finn comes home and plops down on a chair, discouraged.

"Rough day?"

"Yeah."

"Really?", she asks, surprised. It's not like her husband to ever complain about anything, but on the rare occasion he does, it's monosyllabic, and makes Quinn feel guilty for her long, ungrateful rants. "What happened?"

"It's off."

"What's off?"

"The marathon. Coach doesn't want me to run."

"What? Why?"

"Same reason you didn't. He thinks I might injure myself. Threatened to bench next game if I went through with it."

"Oh. I'm sorry, Finn."

"Yeah, it sucks. I was really looking forward to it."

"You were?"

"Yeah, since I found out you were gonna run, too."

They smile at each other sadly.

"Can't you do it without him finding out?"

Finn laughs. "Oh, I wish. He's even making me come in from dusk 'til dawn next week, to make sure I'm not up to something."

"Which means you won't be able to train me."

It dawns on Quinn just then, that there is no way she's going to do this now, that she doesn't even want to, and here's the perfect excuse. But her husband, as always, thinks about everything.

"Don't worry, Quinn. I know how bad you wanted to do this, so I found you a coach."

She cannot discern if there is a teasing tone to his voice, but supposes it doesn't really matter. Saying she doesn't want to, saying she never did, would be disappointing Finn, who no doubt remembers how passionately she spoke of it before. "OK," she says, attempting to hide her dismay.

"But it's gonna have to be in the mornings."

"Huh?"

"Your training. It's gonna have to be in the mornings."

"That's fine," she says absentmindedly, wondering if there is a way she still can quit without letting her husband down.

.........................................

Finn drops her off a quarter to six by the roundabout circle where he starts his runs each morning. Santana is already waiting there, stretching, and she waves at Finn as he drives off.

Quinn rubs her eyes tiredly and squints at Santana. "Why did you say yes?"

"I couldn't say no to your husband."

Quinn sighs. "You're not the only one."

Santana half smiles and Quinn sighs again. "Either way, I'm sorry. You were probably hoping I was going to say no."

"Quite the opposite, actually."

Quinn bends over to tie her shoelaces so she won't have to look into Santana's eyes and yawns. "How can you get up at this hour?"

"You'll see."

Santana pulls her headphones over her ears and starts jogging. "Let's see if you can keep up with me."

Quinn drags her feet heavily, already feeling exhausted, until Santana stops in her tracks and glances back at her. "Quinn, look around you." So she does.

She doesn't think she's ever been outside this early before. The moon is still up in the sky, huge and yellow, and for a moment she thinks it is the sun, only everything is still dark. It's interesting, waking up to this, seeing the world alive before the sun even rises, the concept that life moves, even without it.

Workers are already mowing lawns and watering plants, and for a moment she feels ashamed of herself, that she never knew this happened quite so early, and for the first time, wonders what time Millie has to get up in the morning. It's another universe, where none of the rules she knows exist, something that has existed beyond the thick drapes of her room all along, and she never knew.

Why didn't Finn ever tell me?

But what was there, to tell?

Quinn, life is worth living, even at six in the morning. There are people out there already, being, working, moving. You could be one of them, if you wanted.

Or, Quinn, there are beautiful sunrises, purple and pale blue and yellow, and you're never, ever seen one in your life, but you could if you wanted, even just once.

So she stops to take it all in, and Santana stops next to her. Quinn watches the sunrise, and Santana, who's seen hundreds of them, finds the whole thing fascinating again, reflected in Quinn's golden eyes.


	14. Chapter 14

"Ugh, I'm so glad this is the last day I have to get up early."

She doesn't even mean it. She's enjoyed the stillness of these mornings, but she will never get up this early again, because she doesn't think they'll ever feel quite like this if she's not with Santana.

"You still have to get up early tomorrow. Everyone will be there to cheer you on."

She's right, though Quinn doesn't know where she heard it; Finn's organized a reception committee made up of all their friends and family.

"I'll probably be last, but at least I'll have someone waiting for me to cross the finish line."

"I'll probably be first, and I'll have no one."

"What about Sam and Jaeger?"

Santana scoffs. "Sam would never get up that early. And Jaeger has school. I don't want him missing on account of me." She pauses. "You're not gonna be last and you know it."

"Middle of the pack, maybe?"

"That sounds about right."

"And you?"

"I'd be lying if I said I'm gonna be happy with anything but first."

Quinn nods. "That sounds about right, too."

"So, tomorrow, we go back to being strangers?"

"We are strangers, Santana."  
...........................

She reties her shoelaces again and again, trying not to glance at Santana. She's stretching near the front of the pack, and true to their word, they haven't shared a single sentence or glance since this whole thing began. The gun goes off and Quinn immediately begins feeling breathless, not to mention stupid for even doing this in the first place. She knows her family is there, but she feels so alone and realizes she is, that there is nothing or no one that's going to get her out of this except herself and her guts. She tries to pick up speed, but a dense fog is descending upon them, and the further she runs, the thicker it gets.

After fifteen minutes, Quinn's lost sight of the other runners, all vanished in a mist that's starting to tickle at her throat and eyes. The fog is so dense she can't see her own feet, and the blood pounding in her ears won't let her hear what she supposes must be the continuous shouting of her name from the sidelines.  
She slips on her headphones and turns the volume on her phone all the way up, but the music she loves dancing to only makes her nervous, makes her wish she was in the studio doing what she's suited for and not this, anything but this.  
The pink running shoes feel like weights on her feet, and she's glad she can't see what must be a mixture of blood and mud on them; she's certain they won't be any good after today.  
What was she thinking, believing she could do this, when nearly two hours have passed and time is ticking slow in her head, and probably even slower in real life. She has a seat on the sidewalk and knows she won't finish, but maybe if she shuts her eyes and then opens them she'll wake up somewhere else, like she used to be able to do when she was a child, dreaming.  
Her cell phone rings and she picks up, wanting to laugh because who would be calling her now, like some cruel joke that makes perfect sense given the circumstances.

"Where are you?"

She looks around, but for all the growing up she did on these streets she doesn't know them, not under this fog.

"I don't know."

"Close or far?"

"I don't know."

"Are you still running?"

"I'm not gonna make it."

"You have to. Everybody's waiting for you."

"But it's starting to rain."

"So hurry."

She walks instead, her legs on the verge of giving out until she sees her, leaning against the trunk of a tree, waiting.

"How much longer?"

"Fifteen meters."

They jog to it together, and a couple of meters before it's over, Santana opens a water bottle and pours it down her head with a grin. "Good job," she says as she picks up speed.

"Wait. Where are you going?"

"Home."

...........................

 

She's wrapped in a million arms and legs, Finn, her parents, her children, even Puck and Millie are there, because Finn really does think of everything. She's gasping for air and then Finn's picking her up and she doesn't know anyone or anything until hours later, when she finds herself in her own bed, her husband beside her, her feet bandaged.

"Did I dream it all?"

He smiles. "No. It happened."

She gasps. "I finished?"

"Yup."

"Oh, Finn, I thought I was gonna faint, I was so afraid."

"I know you were. But you did it."

...............................

She dozes in and out of sleep, asking questions that Finn answers patiently each time.

Where am I?

Was it real?

Was I last?

One of these seems particularly important, and she picks up her head groggily and turns to her husband when it forms on her lips.

"Who won?"

"What?"

"The marathon. Who won?"

"Some guy from the university."

"You mean Santana didn't..."

He looks at her with a concerned frown. "Quinn, you don't remember? She walked you to the end."

"No, I remember, I just... you mean she wasn't finished?"

Finn shakes his head. "She stopped a couple meters from the finish line and waited. She was a good minute ahead of the guy who won."  
...............................

When she wakes up again, the house sounds empty, but it only takes her a minute to hear the peals of laughter coming from down the hall. She smiles, wondering what her children are up to now. She looks for them in every room in the house, until the only one left is Willow's, where she can hear their hushed voices behind the door. Something must be going on, they never play in her room, and when she tries the door, it's locked. Her kids are usually not the kind to make mischief, not Elliott or Daisy, at least, but they're definitely up to something now. She knocks on the door, expecting to be greeted with at least some mild form of enthusiasm, but instead, Daisy only opens it a crack. She smiles sweetly at her mother.

"Hi, baby. Can I come in?"

"Don't think so."

"Why not?"

"Cause they said you couldn't."

"Who's they?"

"Willow and Elliott."

She can hear Willow's voice from the other side of the room. "Daisy, shut up."

"What are you guys doing, Daisy?"

"Just playin'."

"Playing what?"

"I can't tell you."

Quinn raises her voice. "Willow, what's going on in there?"

Her daughter's voice echoes across the room. "Whatever it is, can it really be that terrible?"

Quinn's opening her mouth to form a reply when she's pushed back by Finn, who's come out of from behind her to tackle Daisy, opening the door wide and landing them both on the bed.

Inside, Willow is sitting in front of her dresser mirror, her hair pulled into multiple pigtails. Elliott is standing in front of her, an uncapped lipstick tube in hand.

Quinn frowns at them. "What in the world are you guys doing?"

"Makeovers," Daisy pipes up, untangling herself from Finn on the bed.

"And you couldn't let your mother see this because...?"

"Because they're using Daisy's makeup kit and I told Elliott I didn't want him playing with her toys."

There is dead, dull noise in the room, and Willow wants to break it, but remembers what she promised her father. Finn glances at Quinn. "Hon, you can't-"

"I told him not to, Finn."

"But why?"

"It doesn't matter why, what matters is that I gave an order and he disobeyed it."

Before anyone can say anything else, Elliott is running out of the room, his sisters racing after him. Finn sighs.

"Really, Quinn?"

"You can't possibly tell me you like it that he plays with Daisy's toys."

"No, I don't like it, but I don't see what the harm is in-"

"No. What if he-"

"What if he what? Turns out to be gay?"

"Finn! Don't say that! He's your son!"

"Exactly my point, Quinn. He's your son."

..............................

Dinner is an awkward affair, and it's Daisy, who doesn't know any better, who breaks the silence.

"We in trouble?"

"You aren't. Your brother and sister, we'll see."

Elliott frowns. "Why is Willow in trouble? She didn't do anything."

Willow glances at her brother. "Hush, El."

"She's in trouble because she's encouraging you to do something I told you not to do."

Willow bites back a more vicious remark, but won't settle for being quiet. "And what is that, mom?"

"Play with girl's toys," says Elliott quietly, mustering the courage to say something else, and finally looking up from his food and at his mother. "Mommy, Jaeger's mom says that there are really no toys for boys and no toys for girls."

Quinn raises her eyebrows. "You talked to her about this? When?"

"During our vacation." How many things, Quinn wonders, went on in that vacation that she knows nothing about?

"Well, Santana is wrong."

"But mommy, she said-"

"I don't care what she said, Elliott, and neither should you, because she's not your mother."

....................................................

She hasn't seen Quinn since the marathon, has purposely been avoiding taking Jaeger to dance class in case she should be asked about her behavior, which, to be quite honest, is something that up until today not even she understands.

She doesn't expect, never expects, Quinn to cut to the chase and come find her, but that's exactly what she does, one day at the gym, when she's alone in the locker room. Santana finds her eyes, flashing and fiery, and tries not to smile.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"So..."

"So I would appreciate it if you stopped meddling into my family's affairs."

The forcefulness in her voice is halting, and Santana, who was expecting comradery or complicity, feels her voice weak and dismayed by comparison.

"What?"

"I don't know who you think you are to be talking to my son about... I thought I was perfectly clear the other day when I told you. We aren't friends."

"I'm aware of that."

"Then stop acting like-"

"You should have said that to me the day you were tripping over your own feet."

"I never asked you to wait for me," says Quinn, trying very hard to override the memories of that fog, that fear, and Santana standing at the end of it, parting them."That's the problem with you, you're always doing things nobody asked you to do."

Santana sighs. "He's a little boy. He was upset. I was just trying to-"

"You're right, he's a little boy and that's exactly what I'm trying to encourage him to grow up as."

"The fact that he wants to play with a fucking oven isn't going to change that."

"We obviously have different opinions on what parenting entails, Santana, and honestly, I'm not asking for your advice. I've been a parent for a lot longer than you have, and frankly, if my children were anything like your son, I'd be keeping my opinions to myself."

Santana, who in spite of everything is rather proud of how her son's turned out, feels more injured by this than she would have felt if Quinn had said practically anything else in the world.

Quinn seems to realize she's said something severe, because she reaches out her hand, almost as if to touch her, but Santana backs away.

"It's fine, Quinn. I promise you won't have to deal with either me or my child ever again."

.........................................

She's feeling depressed. She blames the fact that Finn's gone again, halfway across the country. The truth is, she can't blame Elliott for not being able to sleep, because she has terrible insomnia when Finn's not home. She stays up most nights, mindlessly watching TV, which does nothing to help her overall mood. This sadness, though, is different than the one she's used to, not sharp at the pit of her stomach like panic, but a general, dull thing that sucks the color out of everything.

The kids are at her parent's, except for Willow, who has promised to give her a ride to ballet class when she's back from band practice, because it's been raining the whole day. Quinn grabs her stuff and sits in the foyer until it becomes evident that her daughter is not going to show up. She calls her cellphone and receives no answer. It is too late to cancel, too late to call Puck, too late to do anything, even walk, if she were to chance it in this pouring storm. She's never been a good decision-maker, and so she does what she always does when she doesn't know what to do.

"Finn?"

She can hear the sigh in his voice as he picks up. "Yeah, Quinn?"

"Finn, Willow was supposed to take me to dance class and she's not here."

"Have you called her cell?"

"Yeah, she's not picking up."

"Practice probably ran late."

"She acts like she's the only one who has important things to do."

"I'm sorry, Quinn." He pauses while he tries to think of a solution."Why don't you take the SUV?"

"What do you mean take the SUV? Oh. You mean like, drive myself there?"

"Yeah. You know how to drive now."

"Finn..."

"You know what to do. You know exactly how the car works. You just have to get over your fear. It's just a machine, it's an extension of you. It does whatever you tell it to."

Quinn's silent.

"You can do it, babe, I know you can."

"If you were here, you could drive me."

"Quinn, honey, I'm kind of busy right now, this is crazy, all you need to do is-"

"No, yeah, you're right. I'll be fine."

"What?"

"I'm gonna do it. Nothing's gonna happen to me."

"That's the spirit. You'll see. It'll be over before you know it."

..............................................

She's never driven in the rain before, and she's only a couple of blocks along before she realizes it might not have been the best idea. It's not that it's any more difficult, it just makes her more anxious, to the point where nervous tears start welling up in her eyes and then she really can't see at all.

A car coming on the opposite lane flashes its lights at her, and she doesn't know what she's doing wrong, then sees, on her lane, a squirrel, trying to cross the road. She could just swerve, but it's raining, and all she can think of doing is pressing the brake like Finn told her. She hears the skidding on the pavement and it takes her a few seconds to realize it's coming from her own vehicle; the other one is long gone. She pushes on the brakes frantically, but it's no good, the car doesn't stop until it crashes into a nearby tree, and then it turns off.

Tears are flowing down her face freely. She knows she should get out, see what happened to the car, but she's terrified of stepping out and finding that she did run over that squirrel after all. A dead, bleeding body is more than she can bear to think of right now, and sobbing, she phones Finn.

"Quinn? Quinn, what is it?"

"I crashed the SUV."

"Oh, my God, are you all right?"

"Yeah."

"Is anybody hurt?"

"No. I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I might have killed a squirrel."

"Oh, that's all right, I thought-"

But Quinn only starts sobbing harder. "It's not OK, why do you think it's OK?"

"It's just an animal, they-"

"Why do we do this?" Quinn wails.

"Do what?"

"Why do we drive in cars? Why do we have these horrible machines that make it so easy for us to hurt others?"

"Quinn-"

"No, I'm serious, Finn."

"Honey, that's not for us to question. It's just how the world works. You can't stop and wonder about every little thing, because then you stop living life."

"Maybe I don't want to live life."

"Don't be ridiculous, Quinn. Now, what you're going to do, after we hang up, is call the insurance company. The number is on speed dial on your phone, and they're gonna come get you and everything's gonna be fine, all right?"

"Yes, Finn."

She hangs up and gets ready to dial when a fresh wave of tears overtakes her. She gives into it easily, wondering when Finn stopped being enough to quench them.

.................................

It's raining, like it was the day of the marathon, and there's a song, playing over and over on her stereo, reminding her of things she can't forget, things she seems to think about more frequently now that she knows she shouldn't. The whole day makes her feel like curling up in bed with her headphones under the covers like she did when she was a teenager, and maybe she will. She's dropped off Jaeger at a friend's house and she doesn't have to go get him until nine, and maybe she'll do it, though it would be a colossal waste of her time and she never wastes time, but maybe just this once, she can give herself permission to do it.

The streets are empty, she's figured out people here don't like to go out in the rain, which is odd because there's nothing she likes better; she remembers long drives across the country, under the pouring water, her heart light because she was headed to the only place, the only person that was home.

There is a silver SUV crashed into a tree trunk, smoke billowing out from under the smashed hood. Whatever happened, it looks like it just did, and she parks her truck right behind it, wanting to see for herself before calling 911.

She knocks on the driver's window, and her eyes meet Quinn's welling copper ones when it rolls down. Like she needed to get herself into deeper shit than she already was.


	15. Chapter 15

They're driving in the rain and no one says anything. Quinn doesn't even know where they're going, she's too rattled to care. She's also too rattled to notice, until a while has passed, that there is a song on replay, that it has been on ever since she got in the car. She hasn't heard this song in a while, and yet, somehow, it feels like it's settled just above her ribs, and underneath her heart.

"I love that song," she whispers absently, and Santana stiffens like she, too, just realized it was on replay, and Quinn knows why. It's the song she was dancing to, that day, the one she hasn't had the courage to listen to since, but that Santana has obviously been replaying, like a curse, over and over again.

 

...................................

The Evans' house is large and distinguished, though Quinn sees none of Santana in it; even the furniture has an air of having been picked by a designer. She doesn't know what she pictured, maybe a house without furniture at all, and it's obvious Santana doesn't feel any more comfortable in it than she does, by the way she leads her into the kitchen instead of the living room.

Quinn sits at the kitchen table as Santana boils something on the stove. Quinn thinks it's probably tea, to calm her nerves, but it's hot chocolate, and the scent does more for her mood than any herb would have. Santana sets a cup in front of her, and Quinn sniffs the air without picking it up, almost like a child. Santana sits down across from her. "What happened?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Well, yeah, but.. why d'you lose control?"

"There was a squirrel."

"Oh. Did it die?"

"I don't know. I... I should have checked but... I was too much of a coward. I'm too much of a coward to do anything. I'm afraid to even drive a couple of blocks. And the very thing I was so afraid of is exactly what happened."

"It sucks, doesn't it?"

"What?"

"That getting behind the wheel means you have the power to kill anyone or anything, and nobody will give a fuck."

"But, Santana... you drive such a huge truck."

Santana laughs. "It's not without it's guilt, believe me."

"Is it Sam's?"

Santana snorts. "No. Sam owns a sports car." She pauses. "Why did you do it if you were afraid?"

"Well, Finn said I could, and..."

"He made you do it?"

"No, he just... he's tired of me not being able to drive, I guess."

Santana gestures to Quinn's hot chocolate. "You're not gonna drink that?"

"No, thank you."

Santana shrugs. "OK." She gets up. "I'm gonna go change into something dry. You can.." she gestures toward the living room "look around, if you'd like."

She doesn't want to, even though she's bursting with curiosity to see Santana's house, but feels somehow like it would be a double-edged sword.

Santana is gone and she feels stupid here, alone in the kitchen, so she moves onto the living room and sits down on a plush leather couch identical to the one they have at home, hoping she won't get it too wet. She dozes off almost right away, body half-way draped across one of the armrests. Santana comes in and finds her like this, and suddenly, the room doesn't seem that hideous anymore.

Quinn wakes up god knows how many hours later, and finds Santana at the kitchen table, pouring over some books. She shuts them and quickly puts them away when she notices Quinn, as if she had caught her doing something she shouldn't.

There is a clean change of clothes on the table, and she pushes them toward her. "For you."

But Quinn shakes her head. "No, thank you."

"You sure? You're soaking wet."

"Yeah. I... I should get home."

.......................................

Santana drops her off in front of her house. Quinn has convinced her parents to keep Elliott and Daisy for the night, and expects Willow to be home already, but by the lack of lights coming from inside, she guesses she's not.

They never lock their door, it's unnecessary in this neighborhood, but as Quinn walks inside she thinks that maybe they should, because there is noise coming from the living room, and she almost wants to go outside and call Santana back.

"Hello?", she calls out tentatively, and almost immediately sees two figures scampering off the couch. "Oh, shit."

She stares at her daughter and a boy she's never seen before, thankfully not unclothed but on their way to being there. She brings a hand to her forehead, a headache beginning already, and glances at the panic-stricken teenager.

"Let me guess. Axel Fisher?"

.............................................

 

Two unpleasant events in one day. She'd call Finn, but she's now wasted the one-call-a-day quota she imposed on herself after her mother told her any more than that would make her seem psychotic.

The phone rings and she picks up immediately, hoping it's him, but instead, she hears another now familiar voice over the phone.

"Hey. How are you?"

"Uh, all right, thanks."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm good."

"OK. I just wanted to make sure. Your neck's not hurting? No headaches or anything?"

Quinn sighs. "Actually, I do have a headache. But I'm pretty sure it's not from the crash."

Santana waits for her to elaborate.

"I... it was just a hard day. From start to finish."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I always have a hard time when Finn's away."

Santana wants to say she knows, not because she understands, but because it reminds her of Finn's original plea, the one from when they first met.

"Hey, listen, Quinn, I... do you wanna come over tomorrow?"

"Come over? To your house?"

"Yeah."

"What for?"

"I don't know. We could have coffee or something?"

She has the no on the tip of her tongue, but surprises herself by saying yes. Santana seems surprised by it, too.

"OK. I'll pick you up at ten?"

She never gets up at ten, but doesn't even flinch. "Yeah. See you then."

.....................................

She wakes up to the sound of the phone ringing, and jumps up, startled. She fell asleep, finally, after a long night of tossing and turning, and this must be Santana, calling because she's already outside waiting, but no, it's just Finn.

"Hey, hon."

"Hey."

"I called last night, but the line was busy."

"It was?"

"Yeah. Were you talking to Kitty?"

Quinn's brain still feels foggy, and she doesn't know whether to lie or tell the truth, so she doesn't do either. "Finn, I found Willow alone with a boy here yesterday."

Finn is silent, as if trying to take the implications of this in.

"I told you letting her be in that band was going to bring nothing but trouble, no wonder she didn't pick me up, she was too busy-"

"Quinn, you need to calm down. Have you talked to her?"

"Talked to her about what? I told her to go to her room and not come out until Monday morning when she has to go to school."

"Hon-"

"What do you want me to say to her, Finn? That what she did was wrong? She knows it was, why do you think she was doing it here alone in the dark?"

Finn sighs.

"What are we gonna do, Finn?"

"I don't know, hon. I guess we'll figure it out when I get home."

..........................................

There's coffee and tea and juice and fresh fruit at Santana's, and Quinn doesn't know how, because she doesn't even see a maid around. Santana hands her a cup, and she takes it and smells it, but then sets her down on the table without drinking. Santana raises her eyebrows, but says nothing. She offers Quinn a plate for fruit, but she shakes her head. "No, thank you. Anyways, so then I walk inside, and there she is on the couch, half-naked, making out with some kid named Axel Fisher."

Santana laughs. "How do you know his name? Did he introduce himself after he pulled up his pants?"

Quinn rolls her eyes. "No. I know his name because I don't know his name."

"Oh, you mean he wasn't a Lexington or a Fowler?"

"Sadly, no."

"So you wouldn't have minded if he had been?"

"A Lexington or a Fowler wouldn't have been caught dead doing something like that."

"You're right. They'd do it, they'd just know better than to get caught."

"That was not what I meant."

"I know it wasn't."

"I don't see what's wrong with me wanting her to date boys that come from respectable families."

"Well, then you're not upset about what she did, you're just upset about who she did it with."

"Of course I'm upset about what she did. She's too young to be dating, Fowler or not."

"How old were you when you had her?"

"Twenty. Not much older than she is now, really. You think I'm being a hypocrite?"

Santana shrugs. "I thought my opinions on parenting were of no interest to you."

Quinn flushes. "I didn't really mean-"

But Santana laughs. "Yes, you did."

"OK, maybe I did but..."

"But?"

"But I wanna know what you think now."

"What does Finn think?"

Quinn sighs. "I don't know. I told him about it this morning, but... I think he's got too many things on his mind."

"Well, it's kind of a personal choice, isn't it? Some parents let their kids date at a younger age than others."

"But dating is one thing, Santana, and what Willow was doing on that couch was not that."

Santana shrugs. "I mean, she's young, of course she's experimenting-"

"Yeah, well, I don't believe in experimenting."

Santana laughs again. "Of course you don't. So, you actually expect her to... I don't know, wait until she's married or something?"

"You say it like it's a bad thing."

"It's not. It's just kind of unrealistic, isn't it?"

"I was a virgin when I got married. Weren't you?"

"Obviously not, seeing as though I'm not even married."

"Oh. Right. Well, was Sam your first?"

"No, of course not." She smiles a little at the surprised look on Quinn's face. "And there's nothing wrong with that. I hope you know that."

Quinn sighs. "I just... I don't want Willow to.. It's just, I think back to it and I feel like I was a child when Finn and I first started..."

"Quinn, you're always a child when you do that, no matter what age you are."

........................................

There is a note in Santana's mailbox that afternoon, in a tiny handwriting that she thinks she could bring herself to love. It's Quinn, inviting her over for coffee the next morning, and for some reason, the whole thing makes Santana laugh, so hard that the noise reverberates around the whole house and wakes Jaeger, who runs straight into his mother's arms, wanting to know what the joke is.

......................................

"So, how did you and Sam meet?"

Santana raises her eyebrows. "Are you asking just to ask, or you really don't know?"

"I-"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean... It's not you in particular, just... people here seem to be all up in my business. I think sometimes they know things before I've even thought of them."

She sighs. "Anyway, we met in college. Sam was a sports medicine major and he needed help with his biology. I was tutoring students to make extra cash, so... that was how we met."

"See, I didn't know all that. I just knew you guys met in school." She pauses. "I never knew what Sam actually studied. It's crazy to think about, I forget sometimes that they all have actual degrees."

"What's Finn's?"

"Education."

Santana laughs. "I should have guessed. It suits him." She grabs the backpack she brought with her from the floor, opens it and pulls out a bar of white chocolate, which she promptly unwraps and splits in half, one of which she gives to Quinn. She stares at it curiously and holds it up to her nose.

"Do you always smell everything?"

"What?"

"You're always smelling things, like you think I'm gonna poison you or something."

Quinn laughs nervously. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was doing it." She nibbles on a corner of the chocolate bar and then sets it down on the table and Santana smiles. At least it's a start.

They look at each other like they don't know where else to look, and then Santana spots a stack of papers on the other end of the couch. "You working on something?"

"Kind of."

"What?"

"Oh, nothing, really. Just some papers for this year's anti-abortion campaign."

"Seriously? You're into that shit?"

"I was gonna ask if you wanted to help out, actually. We all do it, all of the wives from the football team."

"Really?"

Quinn looks at her defensively. "Yeah, why?"

"No, it's nothing, it's just... you guys seem to spend a lot of time worrying about things other people do. Why do you care so much? It's none of your business."

"Wait. Are you saying you're pro-abortion?"

"I'm not saying anything, all I'm saying is I don't see why-"

"You don't see why I want to rescue an innocent baby from dying?"

Santana sighs. "We're never gonna agree on this, so let's just not even go there."

"No, let's."

"Quinn, look, I should go."

Quinn looks slightly affronted, so Santana reaches an arm across the table and rests her fingertips against the back of Quinn's hand lightly. "I'm having a great time, and I'm glad you asked me to come, but I have a lot of shit to do."

"You do?"

"Yeah."

"Like around the house and stuff?"

"You could say that, yeah."

"I could come over and help you. If you want."

A rare smile slowly spreads over Santana's face, but she's shaking her head. "I... I'd love it if you came, but... actually, I'm going on a trip."

Quinn frowns. "A trip? Where?"

Santana fixes her eyes on her and Quinn blushes. "I'm sorry, it's none of my business."

"It's fine."

"Is Jaeger going with you?"

"Yeah."

"Will you be long?"

"Nah. I should be back by Monday."

........................................

 

The next couple of days seem oddly lonely, though they're nothing out of the ordinary in relation to her real life. She remembers, before she married Finn, a constant feeling of expectation, of waiting. She couldn't wait, to get married, to move out of her parent's house, to be a mother, for her wedding, for her honeymoon. But it's been years now since she's waited for anything, because what do you wait for when your life has gone exactly as planned?

And yet she can't deny that, maybe unconsciously, she had wanted, had hoped, that one day there would be more to her life than this, something to make it vivid. But she had never thought it'd really happen. And now, here she is, waiting again, with a feeling that makes her dizzy and nervous, because she doesn't know what she's waiting for, exactly, only that she wants it so badly to happen.

She goes online one afternoon, to upload new pictures on her Facebook profile, of their vacation to Denver. Her whole profile is an album of the life of her family and her marriage, and looking through it makes her wonder what she could possibly be looking for when she has all this. There are new pictures of her friends, and of her family, and of her cousin May's wedding, which she couldn't go to because she was in Denver. May looks so happy, posing with her husband, that Quinn thinks bitterly to herself You'll be divorced within a year, then wonders how many people thought that about her and Finn, and yet here they are.

She brags about it all the time, sixteen years of marriage, but what's there to brag about, really, in having been married all this time, if it's all been like this? Not particularly difficult, but not much else either, like she was just waiting for more years to add to its resume, like an endurance test. What comes after you get what you always wanted?

...................................................

 

The trip to Chicago succeeded in doing exactly what she meant it to; it has, almost completely, taken Quinn off her mind. True, as soon as she has her hands on what she wanted, she can't wait to go back home, and for the first time ever she can't wait to get rid of Jaeger either, so even though they get home late at night, she ships him off to school bright and early the next day.

She moves the microscope out of his room and into the dining room, where there's better light. She also drags out one of Jaeger's huge speakers from under his bed and plugs it in nearby. She's fucking sick of the slow songs that have been roaming her mind for days, so she puts on some heavy metal to block them out, hopefully forever. If she had this, all the time, loud music and new samples, and a microscope smack in the middle of the dining room table like a fruit bowl, maybe she wouldn't need love songs at all.

......................................................

She'd be lying if she said she hasn't walked past Santana's house every day on her daily morning walk. It's a longer way, but she doesn't mind, although she knows it's pointless, staring at an empty house. It seems odd, all of sudden, such a huge house for only three people, two when Sam is gone, which is a lot of the time. The houses they live in, she realizes with a start, are too big even for her family of five, and maybe that's why they always feel so empty.

This morning, though, the house isn't dark and foreboding, there's actually light shining out from within, and, yeah, they're back just the day Santana said they'd be. She fights the urge to go knock on the door, but then thinks better of it, because she never does whatever she wants and maybe this is the time to start doing it.

She hears the loud rock music blasting from inside before she even makes it to the door and she frowns, wondering if Jaeger is home. Her knocks, obviously, go unheard, but when she tries the door she finds it, as expected, unlocked.

She walks straight into the dining room, thinking she'll find Jaeger dancing on the dining room table or something of the sort, but instead finds Santana, pouring over a microscope as her foot drums rhythmically against the floor. It's so amusing it makes her smile, and then giggle, and then Santana's turning around and looking at her with such a mortified expression that it sends her into the most unexpected peals of laughter. Santana smiles, it's a relief to know that this woman can laugh, too. Quinn gets herself under control and manages to gasp out.

"I didn't take you for a rock fan."

Santana turns the volume on her ipod down. "It's all I listen to."

"Not true."

They look at each other, and Santana clears her throat. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

Quinn shrugs. "I was passing by."

"Passing by on your way to where?"

"Passing by on my morning walk, all right?"

Santana grins. "All right."

Quinn's trying to stare everywhere but at Santana, and her eyes land on the microscope.

"What's that?"

Santana turns to look at it too, and sighs. "It's a microscope."

"Well, duh. But what's it doing there?"

"I was, uh, working on some stuff."

"I thought you... didn't work anymore?"

"I don't. This is just something I do... for fun."

There's contained passion, and an inability in those words to explain accurately how something you love doing is not just fun, but everything, and Quinn has a flashback of a little girl, dressed as a ballerina, putting on a performance in front of a room full of stuffed animals and dolls, and thinks that even though she's almost forty, maybe not much has changed at all. She tries to think of a way to convey all this, but she's so unaccustomed to speaking of such things that they all die flat on her lips.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

They look at each other awkwardly, and finally both of them have a seat at the table.

"How was your trip?"

"Good."

"Care to elaborate?"

"I... got what I went for."

"Where did you go?"

"Chicago."

"Wow. Is that where you grew up?" She always pictured Santana in a big city, somewhere up north, where it was cold.

"I didn't really grow up anywhere."

"Everybody grew up somewhere."

Santana shakes her head. "We moved around too much. But I guess Chicago's where we spent the most time."

"So why did you go back?"

"I, uh, a couple of reasons, but mostly... I had some stuff to do at the university."

Quinn, who isn't in the mood to pry, gestures to the microscope instead. "So, what are you looking at?"

Santana smiles, glad for the change of subject. "It's a firefly. A new kind that was just discovered by the University of Chicago."

"I thought fireflies didn't exist anymore."

Santana grins. "Why, cause too many kids caught them in jars?"

"Were you one of those kids?"

"Of course."

"You went all the way to Chicago to get this?"

"Yup."

They look at each other, and Santana knows she gets it. They have something in common, they both loved something since they were children, they understand each other's passion for something you have carried close to your heart for so long, that has accompanied you every step of the way and been your choice, all you.

"I'd appreciate if you didn't tell Sam about it. He doesn't..."

"Understand?"

"He doesn't only not understand, he fucking hates it."

"Why?"

Santana shrugs. "Beats me. Never really asked him. Because it's the one thing I like, I guess."

"What is it you studied, again?"

"Biochemistry."

Barbie makes a face. "I hated chemistry in high school."

Santana laughs. "Chemistry's all right. It's the bio that's exciting."

"Bio means life, right?"

"Yeah."

"So... the chemistry of life?"

"Yup."

"It sounds a lot better than it probably is."

"Oh, words can't even convey half of it." She pauses. "Or maybe they can. Bio means life. And I guess I've just always been in love with it."


	16. Chapter 16

When the phone rings at night, after the kids are asleep, she no longer expects it, maybe even wants it, to be Finn. They stay up talking until long hours of the night, and for the first time in her life, Quinn knows what is like to have something in common with someone beyond the mere trivialities she shared with her friends. They talk and think together, of things Quinn didn't even know it was possible to talk and think about, but she likes it. It's a welcome distraction, from her sleepless nights, she doesn't need to watch TV now, and almost always falls asleep to the sound of Santana's voice on the phone.

"Greatest fear?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, come on."

"There's this nagging fear in the back of my mind that maybe I'm not as smart as everybody thinks I am. Yours?"

"That I'll want the life other people have."

"Seriously? But yours is so perfect."

"That's exactly why I fear it."

"But to have it be your greatest fear, though?"

"Yup. Right up there with the apocalypse."

"Jesus, that's just as insane."

"You're seriously not afraid of the world ending?"

"You know, it's funny, because I think about all this awful stuff that's supposed to happen, like us becoming cannibals or the sun burning the earth, and then I realize I'm not gonna be here anymore when and if it does."

"That's kind of selfish of you."

"I know. I'm sorry? I guess? It's just weird, to imagine the world without me."

............................

 

"What's one thing you don't like about it?"

"I like everything about it."

"No way. There has to be something you don't like. Think harder."

"I guess if I had to say something... I don't like that it's so transitory. Nothing you study is permanent. Life is always changing, and sometimes it's for the better, but not always."

"Like animals going extinct and stuff?"

"Yeah. It's not like... well, it's not like ballet, where you make a choreography and you can keep it forever, because you made it. Here I'm not making anything, I'm merely an observer, and there isn't much I can do about it's permanence on earth. It's very... melancholy."

"But Santana, dancing is melancholy. You're creating something beautiful and then letting it go."

"What do you mean?"

"Like, when I dance, I know it's never going to be the same again, because I'm never going to be able to replicate the same steps, the same movements, at the same time, to the same notes of music. It's like losing something the second it's born. No matter how much I love what's going on, I know the moment it's done, it'll be gone forever."

Santana thinks back to that day, to that dance, and how unfair it is that for Quinn, it's gone forever, while for her, it plays over and over again, no move, no note, no sound forgotten.

....................................

 

The living room, dining room and kitchen of Santana's house are more than familiar to Quinn now, even if the rest of the house isn't. She likes the idea of going somewhere where no one knows every detail about her life since the age of three. But she finds anonymity just as frightening; it makes her doubt her already frail existence. Maybe she's only real inside Santana's house and not outside of it, where nobody knows or needs her.

"So, how come you guys never got married?"

"Full of questions, are you?"

"I'm sorry. Do you mind?"

"No. It's fine. Uh, I... marriage was never something I wanted to do."

"But... you are pretty much married. Except that you aren't."

"Yeah, but... it wasn't the way things were supposed to work out."

"What happened, then?"

"Jaeger."

"You mean he wasn't..."

"Planned? No. I never wanted to have children. I wasn't even going to have him."

She looks across the dining room table when she says this, frankly, so that it will be impossible for Quinn to miss the point. She doesn't know what she's expecting, maybe a lecture or a pro-life brochure, but Quinn just looks pained.

"I meant to have an abortion, but in the end I couldn't get the money together, and there was no way I was going to ask Sam, so..."

"You never thought about adoption?"

"Yeah, but once I had him... I don't know."

Quinn smiles in understanding. "There's nothing quite a little hand squeezing around your fingers, is there?"

Santana shrugs. "I don't know. I was too busy being amazed at the fact that there was a living, breathing human being in my arms, that my body had put together that combination of cells and molecules to function like that."

It's typical Santana, such a technical explanation for something that could only be described as miraculous, but touching in it's own way.

"But you don't regret having him?"

Santana shrugs. "I regret having to quit my job. And it's a curse he looks so much like his father."

"But, Santana, you didn't have to quit your job."

"Look, when I knew for sure I was keeping him, I promised myself he'd have at least one parent who would be there for him always, and, evidently Sam wasn't going to do it. My profession is too demanding, it requires practically a full time commitment, and so does raising a son."

"But he's older now."

"I know. Which is why I'm even beginning to get into it again. Although I guess I was only going to be able to stay away for so long."

...............................

 

"You're late today."

"I'm sorry."

"Prior commitment?"

Quinn smiles, at Santana fishing. "It's Sunday, Santana. I was at church."

"Oh."

"I suppose you think that's stupid?"

"What?"

"Church."

"No."

"You don't?"

Santana laughs at the surprise in Quinn's voice. "You know, you people make a big deal about me judging you, but you didn't let me off the hook too easy either. I'm not some crazy atheist looking to convert you, Quinn."

"Wait, so you're actually-"

"Well, no, I don't believe in that stuff, but... we all have to do what we have to do to get by. And if that helps people..."

"It doesn't, much," Quinn mutters.

Santana shoots her a sideways glance, wondering how much it cost her, to admit that. "Then why do you do it?"

"Because... I don't know."

"I think you do. And I think if... if you're going to have to go anyway, you might as well try to find some sort of redemption in the whole thing."

"You're the last person I would have expected to say that."

Santana shrugs. "I'm a scientist. I try to find a practical use for things."

The next time Quinn goes to church, everything seems different.

...............................................

 

"Every year that goes by I feel like I'm being awarded a medal for years of service. People like my mother will tell you that they've been married for so many years, like it's an accomplishment, but... it's been pretty easy for me."

Santana nods. "Of course. Finn is... the kind of man with whom I can imagine it being easy with."

"Isn't Sam?"

Santana considers this. "I imagine for some women he would be."

"Have you tried marriage counseling?"

Santana laughs, and it's unlike anything Quinn's ever heard before, surprised and bitter. She feels self-conscious all of sudden. "It's just... I always thought, if Finn and I had problems-"

"Maybe you and Finn have something worth saving."

......................................

 

"Why do people do that stupid thing?"

"What?"

"Get married. I don't get it. Don't they know there's a fifty percent chance their marriage will fail? What kind of odds are those? Why would anyone play anything on those odds?"

"Because people want to believe in love, Santana. No one wants to believe that will be them."

"But you understand how, from logical point of view, it doesn't make any sense?"

Quinn sighs. "Yes. But isn't it much worse to think you're going to spend the rest of your life without love?"

"Quinn, the fact that you're not in a relationship doesn't mean you're going to want for love. How could you, when there are so many other kinds?"

"But this is the one everyone talks about, the one every one pursues... you've got to wonder sometimes, if you're not missing out."

"You know, for years I asked myself how I could survive, thrive, even, without that thing everybody seemed to be chasing so desperately. And then one day, when Jaeger was a toddler, we were watching the Winter Olympics and pretending to be a figure skating couple. I was lifting him high into the air and I realized I was in love. I knew what it was, I didn't need stupid songs telling me, because it wasn't anything like they said it was. It was as if I'd lived my whole life in that instant and missed out on nothing. Not the Eiffel tower, or riding an elephant or skydiving, because they were all there, rolled into that twenty seconds when I lifted Jaeger into the air and spun."

Hearing Santana talk about her son makes Quinn respect her more than anything else, because hard as she might try, she doesn't think she would ever be capable of fathoming such a love out of thin air. She wonders if there's a secret to it, to being able to love so much, because if there is, it's something no one ever taught her. She says as much, but Santana just shrugs.

"It's not really me, it's all him. Sometimes I feel like Jaeger is erasing my childhood."

"Huh?"

"Like, I'll remember something nice, that happened to me as a kid, and then I'll realize it didn't really happen to me, it happened to Jaeger. Slowly, I'm beginning to forget details about my own childhood, and replacing them with memories of his."

"Is that good?"

"Of course. His are happy."

"And yours aren't?"

Santana mulls this over. "There's some I wouldn't trade for the world."

"And others..."

"Others I already traded in, long time ago."

........................................

 

Quinn takes the kids to a playdate that afternoon, and for the first time ever, doesn't stay.

The microscope has settled on the coffee table of Santana's living room for good, at least while Sam is away. They spend much time looking through it together, and Quinn never knew something as huge as life could be explained in such minute detail. They stay up all night, Santana explaining how a feather is just like the wings of a butterfly.

She shows her her sketchbooks, and Quinn doesn't know this, but it's something she's never even shown Jaeger.

She sighs. "You draw so beautifully."

"I worked on this in 1998. And this one when I was pregnant with Jaeger. It was my last one."

There are a number of things, from cells to animals to plants. Looking through her notebooks is like looking through a journal, more so when she explains them, and Quinn wonders about the content of Elliott's own for the first time since she found out about them.

They don't know when they fall asleep, only that Quinn is on the couch, Santana on the carpet. Then sound of screaming startles Santana awake and she gets up like lightning, even though it's been years since she last woke up to these sorts of yells. Quinn's tossing and turning, eyes shut tightly, saying things Santana can't understand and kicking and screaming in a way Santana is afraid will make her hurt herself. She quickly gets on the couch and tries to restrain her, which is a struggle even though Quinn's so small. Finally, she fixes her arms around her waist and pulls Quinn to her. This seems to do the trick, and Quinn turns around and buries her face in her shoulder.

"Finn."

"Quinn. It's me. Santana."

The words wake her like a splash of cold water, and she jumps off Santana's lap immediately.

"I... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I-"

But Santana is looking at her curiously. "That happen to you a lot?"

"I... yes. No. I mean, I should go."

She grabs her stuff and runs out the door before Santana can do anything else, even think of chasing her.

 

.......................................

 

When she wakes up the next day, Finn is already in bed next to her. She sighs on relief, but she's also upset; that hadn't happened in a long time. Maybe it's the fact that she's been doing almost no sleeping lately, but now that Finn's back, everything should go back to normal.

He flips over on the bed and grabs her hand. "Morning."

"Morning. What time did you get in last night?"

"Not too late. Like eleven. You were asleep already."

"Yeah, I... I don't know how that happened. I'm sorry, I should have cooked you something-"

"That's fine. Willow gave me some bread and butter."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"That's gross, Finn."

He laughs. "It wasn't that bad. Gave me a chance to talk to her, actually."

"And?"

"There's something she wants to talk to us about."


	17. Chapter 17

Santana doesn't call anymore, and Quinn doesn't want her to. Not after what happened the last time, not if it means she will have to explain, that she will have to put into words something that not even she herself understands. It's a new kind of loneliness, though, one only accentuated by Finn's return, and when he says he's going to have to leave again, in a couple of days, she barely even feels it, because in these past couple of days, it seems like she's endured a bigger loss.

.................................

 

"So, mom, I just wanted to say, I'm really sorry about what happened."

Quinn sighs, wishing the apology sounded more sincere, but, fully aware that she cannot refuse an apology by her own daughter, she just nods tiredly. She can't wait for dinner to be over so she can go back to catching up on her weeks of lost sleep, but something tells her this is only the beginning of it, that only some larger, looming thing would be bringing about this apology from the most insurgent of her children.

"I accept your apology, Willow," she says automatically, wondering how all the words buzzing around in her head transform into just the five she lets out.

"And, I don't know if Daddy told you, that there's something—"

"Yes, he did. What is it?"

Willow glances uncertainly at her father, who smiles, encouraging.

"Well, you know how tomorrow's the last day of school?"

Quinn nods, even though she didn't really, exactly.

"And now summer's here?"

"Yeah. And? You don't wanna be a lifeguard at the community pool anymore?"

This, apparently, had not occurred to Willow. "Oh, well, yeah. I don't."

"That's fine."

"But, see, mamma, what I really want is to go to a summer camp."

"All right. That can be arranged. The church is having-"

"No."

"What?"

"I mean, I... I already picked out a camp and everything."

Quinn raises an eyebrow. "You did?"

"Yeah. It's in Austin. It's like a... music camp."

"Oh."

Again, Quinn has so much to say, but it doesn't even sound coherent inside her head, and she figures it won't sound any better out in the open. She glances at Finn, who shrugs.

"I don't see why not. I looked into it and called them and everything, it seems all right."

"I, but... Willow, you've never been away from home before."

"I know. And I think it would be good for me."

"But..."

She remembers, very clearly, wanting so badly to go to ballet camp and Caroline saying no. It's tempting, telling Willow she can't just because Quinn couldn't, because it's not fair that Willow has Finn to defend her when Douglas was just quiet. But she's just so tired, and having Willow off her hair for a couple of weeks at this point would be a blessing, and mostly she just remembers Santana, wanting to give Jaeger the childhood she didn't have, and she nods.

"All right, Willow. I'm not gonna fight you."

"Really?"

"Really."

Her daughter jumps of her chair and hugs her, and Quinn wonders if hugs from your own flesh and blood are supposed to feel this awkward. Willow feels it too and lets go quickly, and maybe Quinn feels like she's been too nice, because she just looks at her daughter wearily.

"Just please don't get yourself kicked out."

Willow's eyes flash, but when she speaks, her voice is under perfect control. "Don't worry about it, mamma. I promise you won't get a single call about my behavior all summer."

"I hope so."

.....................................

They ship Willow off in a plane before Finn has to leave again, and Quinn thinks that she might just move permanently to her parent's house during the summer, or at least until Finn is back, and maybe this unhappiness won't follow her there.

She's back at the airport again after only a few days; the first time she's ever been there to see her husband off. It is not nearly as difficult as she thought it would be, as it probably would have been, at another time in her life. Funny, she thinks, because it really feels like another time, but it was only a couple of weeks ago, when she felt everything starting to change. But maybe it had been changing for a long time. Maybe it was always meant to.

Finn kisses her on the lips. "You'll be OK?"

Maybe, he, too, is surprised by the lack of tears.

"Yeah. I'll be fine. I'm getting better at it."

"At what? At not missing me?"

Quinn blushes. "Finn, I didn't mean-"

"No. It's good. Even if it's what you meant, it's good."

He glances back at Puck, who steps forward and grabs Quinn gently by the elbow as Finn walks away. She watches and then shrugs Puck' hand off almost immediately. "I'm fine. Stop acting like I'm not."

"I'm sorry, it's just that Finn-"

"Finn is gone and it's about time I learn that."

.......................................

She cannot stay home, that much is clear, and as soon as Puck drops her off, she gets Millie to help her start packing the children's stuff; she's already shipped them off to her parents'. She packs her own clothes too, truth be told, it's the last place she feels like going, but there is nowhere else to go.

The phone rings, suddenly, and she stares at it with foreboding fear. It can't be Finn, he's on the plane, and he's really the only person she thinks she could handle talking to right now. So she lets it ring and ring and ring, until Millie is handing her the receiver and Quinn's cursing her in her head.

"Hudson residence."

"Am I speaking to Mrs. Hudson?"

Quinn sighs with relief at the unfamiliar voice. "Yes, this is she."

"I'm calling from camp, about your daughter Willow?"

Quinn has a seat on the edge of the bed. "Yes?"

"Well, I-"

"She's been there for less than seventy-two hours, what can she have possibly done during that time?"

"She didn't do anything, ma'am."

"She didn't?"

"No. It's just... well, she's feeling kind of homesick."

Quinn almost laughs. "Willow? Homesick? You've got the wrong girl."

"No, ma'am, I'm afraid I don't. She wants to go home."

"You can't be serious."

"Unfortunately-"

"Let me talk to her."

"See, the thing is, she's rather reluctant to talk to you, she insisted we phone her father, but we thought it be best to-"

"Are you refusing to let me talk to my own child?"

There is noise and then Quinn hears her daughter's quiet breaths on the other end of the line. "Willow?"

"Yeah."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"What do you mean nothing? Then why am I getting a call from some woman telling me you're homesick and-"

"I never said I was homesick."

"What's the problem, then?"

"Camp just isn't what I thought it was gonna be."

"I tried to tell you-"

"See, this is why I didn't wanna fucking call you. I knew you were just gonna rub it in."

"Willow, you can't seriously expect-"

"I want to go home, all right? Is that so bad?"

"No, I just-"

"Considering what a shitfest our home life is, you should be flattered I even want to go back."

"You have a mother and a father that love you-"

"Really, mom? You love me? Because I don't feel very loved right now. I feel like you don't want me to come back."

Quinn sighs, because it's true, because she feels like Willow's interrupting something, and maybe that's how it's always been. Willow, coming unexpected, breaking into her marriage, into her life at the worst possible time.

"Fine, Willow. Tell them to put you on a plane."

"They can't just put me on a plane. Someone has to come get me. A parent or guardian."

"But... your dad is... you know he's not here. He can't go get you, he's working."

"Well, you're not. Isn't that the whole point of you not having a job? That you're supposed to be here for us?"

"So you expect me to just fly over there and-"

"Isn't that what a mother is supposed to do?"

"Willow, I... you know I can't fly. Not without your dad."

Willow sighs and Quinn wonders how she's managing to make her feel guilty, even from so far away.

"Look, I don't know, but I'm just gonna tell you one thing, mamma. If you leave me here, I will never forgive you."

.........................................

Quinn knows there are lots of things Willow will never forgive her for, just as there are things she will never forgive her own mother for doing. One more added to the list shouldn't make any difference, and she's not sure it does, if it wasn't for the fact that she fears this is one Finn wouldn't forgive her for either.

"Hello?"

"Finn? It's me. Quinn."

He laughs. "I know who it is. How would I ever not know who it is?"

"Hey, listen. Willow wants to come back."

"What?"

"Willow. Apparently she hates camp and she wants to come back or something."

Finn laughs, kind of delighted.

"You think this is funny?"

"I think it's cute. You honestly didn't see it coming?"

"Didn't see what coming? Finn, she hates us. Well, me. You she adores."

"She can't hate you that bad, if she wants to go back."

"She said our home life was a crapfest. And please don't laugh at that."

"All teenagers are convinced they're either adopted or come from a dysfunctional family, Quinn. It's what they have to believe to survive."

"So, you knew Willow would do this and you still let her go?"

"I didn't know she was gonna do it, I had a feeling she might. But I thought it was an experience she needed to have."

"And now what?"

"Now?"

"Well, yeah. Since you're so smart and you saw all of this coming, please tell me what we're gonna do now, since you know I can't fly and-"

"Woah, woah, Quinn, hold on. Why do I feel like you're attacking me?"

She can hear laughter in the background, and it only annoys her even further. "Who's there with you?"

"No one. Just some of the guys."

"Finn, am I on speaker phone?"

"No, Quinn, I can't believe you think I would actually do that-"

"Then why-"

"You're screaming so loudly you don't need to be on speaker phone, hon."

She hears some more shuffling in the background and finally hears Sam's voice on the other line. "Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you ask Santana to drive you? She won't mind, it's not like she's doing anything important anyway."

"Sam, I- that's really nice of you, but I can't ask her to-"

"Fine, then. I'll ask her."

"Sam, no-"

But Finn is already back on the phone. "That's actually a really good idea. You guys are friends now, aren't you?"

"No."

"There's no need to lie, hon. You know back home nothing ever stays a secret for too long."

Quinn sighs. "Finn, it's a twelve hour drive, I can't ask her to-"

And then Sam's voice is back on, loud and clear. "She says it's fine. She'll pick you up in thirty minutes."

.....................................

Quinn gets in Sam's convertible and slams the door behind her, staring straight ahead.

"So, I guess I shouldn't expect you to thank me for this either?"

"You're only doing this because Sam asked you to, don't pretend like you're not."

"The fact that he asked me to is exactly the reason I would've said no."

"Then why didn't you?"

Santana sighs and continues driving, eyes on the road.

"See? You don't even-"

"Oh, come on. You gonna make me spell it out?"

"I wasn't aware there was something to spell out."

"What? That I like having you around? In spite of everything you've done to make sure that doesn't happen?"

"I-"

"But, obviously, it's not a mutual thing, seeing as though-"

"You're the one that hasn't called."

"I was trying to give you your space."

"Santana, I... I didn't know how to talk to you, after that day."

"You didn't have to talk to me about it, Quinn. I wasn't going to bring it up."

"That was only gonna make me feel like more of a freak..."

"Everybody has nightmares."

"Not like that, they don't."

"You'd be surprised."

...................................

They don't say anything, either of them, for a long time, until they've left home and the landscape's changed, into country and fields and warm, yellow light.

"Where's your truck?"

Santana makes a face. "At the garage. I got a flat tire yesterday, so I had to bring this."

Quinn laughs at the look of disgust on her face. "Can we put the top down?"

Santana sighs. "Really?"

"You don't want to?"

"I fucking hate convertibles. Especially with the top down. Makes me feel like everyone is staring at me."

Quinn shrugs. "I've never been in one before."

So Santana presses the button and then the top is down and Quinn turns the radio on to the poppiest station she can find and Santana groans until Quinn starts singing, and Santana wishes she could sing along but she doesn't know the words to any of these songs.

She doesn't put the top back up for the rest of the day.

..............................................

They stop at a gas station, in the middle of nowhere, but everything here is the middle of nowhere. The heat is so intense it's bouncing back in waves from the concrete, and while Santana goes inside, Quinn steps out of the car to stretch out her legs.

There is a kid with ice cream cone approaching, and next thing Quinn knows he's got his chocolatey hands all over Sam's convertible. He turns to her with a grin. "Awesome car. Is it yours?"

"Yes. And you're getting ice cream all over it."

"Do you mind?"

"Of course I mind, I wouldn't be saying it if I didn't."

The kid goes around the car in circles, hands firmly planted on it, like he's trying to make sure it's real.

"Can you please stop... where are your parents?"

He shrugs as he opens the door to the front seat of the car and climbs in.

"Look, you can't just be..." Quinn looks around helplessly, and, on the other side of the gas pump, spots Santana doubling over in laughter.

"Santana, aren't you going to do something?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. He's gonna get the seats dirty and it's Sam's car."

"Fuck Sam," Santana says, still laughing.

The kid is pretending to drive when another, carrying a handful of popsicles, shows up. He glances at Quinn and Santana, hesitant, but Santana just nods. He hands her a popsicle, Santana grins and pops it into her mouth. He hands another to Quinn, but she shakes her head.

"No, thank you."

The kid shrugs and heads to the front seat of the car.

"You ever say yes to anything?"

"What?"

"Every time someone asks you something, it's all I hear you say."

"I'm not going to say yes to something I don't want."

"You don't want a popsicle on a ninety degree day?"

Quinn's about to reply when a loud shrieking cuts her off. "Kids? Guys, what in the world are you doing?"

A woman, barely a teenager, speeds past them and yanks the kids out of the car, shooting them a dirty look. "I told you I don't want you talking to strangers, you never know—"

Quinn cuts in. "Excuse me, ma'am, but it was your children that got in our car and-"

"My children would never-"

"Well, they did, and they got ice cream all over the seats and-"

But the lady's already walking away, and Santana's shaking her head and laughing as she opens the door for Quinn to get back in the car. "Come on. Let's go."

"You're just gonna let her walk away like that?"

"Like what? They didn't do anything."

"Why are you laughing?"

"Because you're ridiculous."

"I thought you said you liked me."

"I do like you."

"Say it again."

"What?"

"That you like me."

Santana glances at Quinn. She's stretched out her tan legs on the dashboard, and she's grinning at her brightly.

"Are you flirting with me?"

Quinn smiles wider. "Maybe."

........................................

They stop at a little Mexican market for dinner. It has all the signs of a bad idea, starting with the fact that Quinn hates spicy food. She loves Coronas, however, and after two, she's up for trying anything, even all the sauces in the little bowls with the names in Spanish written on them.

Santana's eyes crinkle in a smile as she looks at her, attempting to twist her lips to form the words and then dipping her fingers into the sauces and tasting them.

"Jitomate." She glances at Santana. "Tomato, right?"

"Yeah. Next."

"Nopal."

"Cactus."

Quinn dips her finger in, eyes wide. "Not bad."

Santana laughs. "Told you."

"Guayaba... what's that?"

"Figure it out."

Quinn tries it. "Guava?"

"Yup."

"Chapulin?"

Santana laughs. "Eat that one first, then I'll tell you what it is."

Quinn tries it, then makes a face. "What is it?"

"Cricket."

"No. No way."

"Yes. You just ate sauce made from crickets."

"Santana!"

..................................

Night's fallen and they're still driving. Santana's been trying to spot a hotel, one that doesn't look too creepy or dangerous, but so far she's seen nothing. She glances over at Quinn on the other seat. She fell asleep long ago, her cheek resting on her shoulder, no sign of nightmares or sadness. She looks like Daisy a little, sunburned from riding with the top up all day, rosy cheeks and a satisfied smile, the way a kid looks after spending all day in the pool and eating ice cream.

Santana feels herself beginning to doze off too, so she turns up the volume on the radio and skips through the stations until she finds something she likes. The loud music doesn't wake up Quinn, she's knocked out cold, from the beer and the sun, and the whirlwind this whole day has been. Santana even dares to sing along softly, her heart full and happy in a way so unfamiliar, and when she glances at Quinn again, she knows it's because of her.

She stops the car at an intersection, the light is red even though there are no other cars or people around, she could keep going if she wanted, run this red light, but instead she watches it change, from red to green to yellow to red again, country lights flickering all over Quinn's face.

She bends down and rests her lips gently against hers, so lightly that she knows Quinn won't feel or remember, but then feels Quinn bite down on her lower lip just as gentle, slowly, as they lose themselves into each other and into the heat of the night in this empty road where no one can interrupt them.


	18. Chapter 18

PART 2

....

 

Quinn follows Santana into the bathroom and watches as she throws up every last bit of the Thanksgiving dinner she just ate. "You're just doing this to upset me."

Santana wipes some vomit from the side of her mouth. "You think I'd throw up to prove a point?"

"I'm just grateful you didn't do it in front of my parents."

"Good Lord, Quinn, I've had enough of your fucking family to last me a lifetime."

"You can't react like this every time someone serves you food you don't like."

"It wasn't about that. They know fully well I don't eat meat, and neither do you."

"Yes, Santana, but-"

"But that wasn't going to stop them from trying to sneak it into every single dish on that table."

"Finn loved meat, they're used to doing that."

"Lovely. So it wasn't enough that Finn was the main topic of conversation, he also had to be present in every bite of my food."

"They miss him, you can't just expect-"

"That's the worst part, I wasn't even expecting anything, and it still turned out way worse than any other Thanksgiving meal I've had in my life."

"Considering your last ten have been in a mental ward, I hardly think-"

"We would have had a better time-"

"My children weren't going to be having Thanksgiving dinner-"

"With a lunatic?"

Quinn sighs as she flushes the toilet and puts down the lid. "No, Santana, don't put words in my mouth." She digs under the sink and pulls out a toothbrush and toothpaste, which she hands her wife. "Do you really think I would say something like that?"  
Santana brushes and spits into the sink. "No. I'm sorry."

................................

 

Once they've got everything packed and in the back of the truck, Quinn turns to her eldest daughter, arms outstretched. Willow hugs her gently, she's now taller than her mother and is beginning to become aware of the fact that she has the power to hurt her.

"Bye, mom."

Quinn sobs a little and Willow pulls away almost immediately, looking at Santana for help. She's world's different from the girl Santana first met, her hair has grown out and she's left part of it her natural blonde; the rest is tinged with purple. She's in college now, studying marine biology in California. It's a surprise to Quinn, but also a relief; she had been afraid Willow would do nothing at all with her life, but she's taken after Santana, with the biology and the modeling, even though she's still close to her father, who's moved to California just to be with her. Imagining Finn in California, with some Cali girlfriend, is something Quinn still has a hard time doing, but she imagines for Finn it must be just as tough picturing her in Chicago.

Santana lays a hand on Quinn's shoulder and smiles at Willow sympathetically.

"Everything all right in school? You don't need anything?"

"No."

"No modeling advice?"

"No, no. Maybe some help with my biology stuff?"

Santana nods. "OK. Message me and we'll talk."

"Yeah. The band also has some new songs I want to you listen to."

"Great. Can't wait."

They give each other quick hugs and ignore the tears rolling down Quinn's cheeks. Santana ushers Jaeger, Daisy and Elliott into the backseat of the truck and then opens the front door for Quinn, who hops in.

The kids fall asleep almost right away, strewn in a mess of limbs that makes it difficult to tell which is which. Quinn turns to Santana.

"She likes you more than she likes me."

"That's not true. We just have more in common."

"It's you she turns to when she needs something, not me."

"Well, it's not exactly like she can ask you for career advice."

"She must think I'm pathetic."  
"I'm sure she doesn't. One day she'll be grateful, that you stayed home to raise her."

"It's not like I made some huge sacrifice. I never wanted a career. All I wanted was to be a wife and a mother, and even at that I failed miserably."

"You're a great mom, Quinn."

"My own daughter prefers the company of a woman she barely knows to mine."

"I'm not some woman, I'm your wife."

"Why doesn't she ever ask me to listen to her songs?"

"You don't know anything about music, why would she-"

"Yeah, that's always the problem, isn't it? I don't know anything about anything."

"Do you want her to hate me, Quinn? Because she could, you know. It's a testament to her character and to the way you raised her that she doesn't."

"No, of course not. It's just... I wish she understood."

"I think she understands a lot more than you give her credit for."

.....................................

The next morning they're back home, and it's six a.m. and Santana's getting up like the clock. Quinn thinks she's going running, but then she opens her eyes and catches a glimpse of Santana's white lab coat.

"Where are you going?"

"Where does it look like I'm going? To work."

Quinn sits up as the full impact of this hits her.

"You're going back to work already? I thought you didn't have to go back until the second."

"It doesn't work that way."

"But-"

"This isn't the NFL. I don't show up, I don't get paid. Simple as that."

"I know, but-"

"Quinn, someone in this family has to make a living."

"I told you I could get a job."

"Where, McDonald's?"

Quinn would be offended, if Santana wasn't so matter of fact about it. Thoughtless, but without fire. Also, she knows it's true. She's only a high school graduate, where would she get a job to her liking?

Santana digs around a pile of clothes on the floor until she finds her Converse shoes, which with her lab coat and orange capri sweats look so absurd Quinn would laugh and point if it wasn't her wife dressed like this. Completely unaware of Quinn's train of thought, Santana looks up at her.

"Do you mind?"

"Mind what?" That you're dressed like this? Maybe?

"That Finn's getting remarried."

She had avoided thinking about it, honestly, almost even forgotten about it, but when Santana brings it up she feels her stomach sink, although she knows it has no right to.

"Oh, Santana, how could I?"

"It'd be perfectly normal. I wouldn't mind if you did."

"Of course you wouldn't."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Quinn sighs and flops back down on the bed. "Sometimes I think I'm too human for you."

She thinks Santana won't know what she means, but to her surprise, Santana laughs, a deep, belly laughter she hasn't heard in a while. "Sometimes I think so, too. But that's what I love about you."

................................................

 

The house they live in is part of Santana's inheritance. She had never been inside it before, and when they got there, they found it to be smaller than they expected, meaning Elliott and Jaeger had to share a room. Santana hoped they'd be able to move out of there soon, but the kids' new school was taking such a big chunk out of her pocket that she knew they'd have to wait at least a few years before that happened. But it doesn't matter, it's the best school in Chicago, and, thankfully, within walking distance of their house.

Quinn drops off and picks up Daisy daily, because her schedule is different from the boys', who take the bus in the morning and get picked up by Santana in the afternoon. The schools up north are more hectic, hardly anyone walks to school, and parents can drive up to the entrance and not even have to get out of the car. There is only a handful of women waiting at the gates, and out of those, Quinn is the only parent, the rest are nannies or maids.

It is beneath her to start a conversation with them, but sometimes she feels so dreadfully bored that she entertains the thought. They wouldn't have anything to say to each other anyway, she's sure they don't even speak the same language, and she suspects all of them ever since Millie. This means she has to clean the house alone, or at least pick up after the children, because Santana is so neat and tidy that anything that isn't drives her up the wall, and Quinn agreed to doing the housework herself if it meant not having to hire someone and have them witness the life they lived.

God knows what Santana thinks, if she suspects that the real reason Quinn doesn't want to get a maid is that she's ashamed of their life together, but whatever it is, she doesn't say anything. Her words are hard to come by these days, or maybe they always were and Quinn just never noticed. For Sam's complaints of her being complicated, Quinn finds Santana exceedingly simple, the kind of person who doesn't engage with too many cares or concerns extraneous to her work. She probably thinks Quinn's a racist, or that Millie stole something from her and now Quinn doesn't trust maids, or god knows what she thinks or if she even cares.

Quinn waits in under the hot sun until the bell rings, the light beginning to give her a headache. Daisy rushes out after making her wait a while, running with a group of boys, her hair down, wild and messy and not at all like the way Quinn sent her off.

"I lost my scrunchie", she says, before Quinn can ask anything.

Her mother frowns and looks at her dirt streaked face. "Daisy-"

And then there is a boy, calling and waving her over, and Daisy looks at Quinn with longing in her eyes. "Mommy, can I go play? Just for a little while?"

Quinn glances at the groups of kids already in the playground, and then at her daughter's dirty clothes. "No, Daisy. I'm sorry. We're leaving."

Daisy looks like she's trying to hold back tears, but she nods, maturely, and lets Quinn hold her hand as they walk home. Quinn ruffles her hair. "Didn't I do your hair in pigtails today?"

"No, mommy, that was yesterday."

"I could have sworn... oh, I don't know. The days are all starting to blend into one another."

 

.........................................

Santana gets there a few minutes early and parks in the shade. She isn't in such a hurry that she has to pick up the kids off the driveway today, like all the other parents do. She won't do the gate either, thought, like Quinn, so she texts Jaeger and tells him to tell Elliott to meet her in the car. They are in the same classroom, but usually arrive separately, Elliott first, out with a group of quiet kids, and Jaeger minutes later, out with the group of the boisterous and loud.

This time, though, she is surprised to see them making their way toward the car together. Elliott is nibbling on one of those nasty blue popsicles, then holding it at arms' length. Jaeger leans forward and catches it in his mouth as Elliott giggles and tries to tug it from him. A drop of blue rolls down his arm and Jaeger licks it, and pretty soon they're both blue and sticky. Santana wants to laugh with them, and does when they get in the car, trying not to think about how upset Quinn will be if she finds any blue stains on the upholstery.

.............................................

They're all sitting down at the dinner table when the phone rings. Santana glares at Jaeger, they're not allowed answer the phone during dinner and Jaeger is the only one who gets any calls. Quinn smiles at Jaeger indulgently, relieved that at least one of their children isn't having a hard time making friends, and picks up. It's a little boy's voice, and to her surprise, he asks to speak not to Jaeger, but to Daisy. Quinn's voice instantly turns cold and she hangs up the phone. When she gets back to the table, Daisy is staring at her.

"Who was that?"

"No one."

"Was it for Jaeger?", Elliott asks.

"No."

Santana raises her eyebrows at her quizzically, but Quinn shakes her head. They finish eating in silence, until Jaeger's finished all his vegetables and Elliott his macaroni and cheese and Quinn nods at them. "You're excused."

Daisy starts to get up too, but Quinn shakes her head at her, and Jaeger stops on his way out, glancing at the three of them. "Is Daisy in trouble?"

Santana shrugs and looks at Quinn, who turns to Jaeger. "Jaeger, you're excused."

He is never one to back down in a fight, but he has had to learn to, since living with Quinn. They have similar temperaments, fierce and passionate, but Jaeger is better aware of his, and more able to control it, which is why, after fixing Quinn with a commiserating look, he leaves almost right away.

Santana looks across the table at her wife and feels a little sorry for Daisy, who is practically cowering in her seat, trying to hold back tears. "It's OK, Daisy", she says.

"No, it isn't", Quinn snaps.

"Quinn, she doesn't even know what she did. I don't know even know what she did."

"They know they're not allowed to take phone calls during dinner."

"She didn't."

Quinn turns to her daughter. "Who was that on the phone, Daisy?"

Daisy looks down at the floor, answering in a whisper. "I don't know."

"Don't lie to me. Who did you give our phone number to?"

"A friend."

"What's your friend's name?"

"Billy."

"Did you tell Billy not to call during dinner?", Santana asks gently.

"No. I forgot."

"Daisy, you are not to go handing out our phone number to any random-"

"I didn't, mommy, he's my friend."

"Quinn, I don't understand what the problem-"

"The problem is that Daisy is a little too young to be getting phone calls from boys."

Santana sighs and brings a hand to her forehead. "Oh, so this is what this is."

Quinn glares indignantly at her wife. "What did you think it was?"

Santana gives her a level look. "I thought you were ashamed of someone calling the house and somehow finding out your daughter has two mothers."

"Santana!"

"It's true, Quinn. You never talked to them about it."

"Neither did you. I thought you didn't care."

"I talked to Jaeger. I thought you'd at least be responsible enough to talk to your own children."

"They're your children, too."

"Yes, and you throw a hissy fit every time I try to tell them anything. I figured you'd just get upset."

Daisy is now wiping away her tears and looking back and forth between them, shocked. Although their life has its fair share of arguments, she has never seen them fight before.

Santana falls silent and looks at Daisy. "Daisy, do you ever tell your friends you have two mommies?"

Daisy shakes her head.

"Why?"

"Because it's a secret."

"Why is it a secret?"

Daisy shrugs. "I don't know."

"Are there any other kids in your class who have two daddies or two mommies?"

Daisy shakes her head. "No. Darius lives with his grandma."

"Have they explained to you at school about the different kinds of families?"

She shakes her head again, and Quinn makes an indignant noise. "We pay so much money for them to go to that school, and they don't even explain shit to them?"

Santana turns to Daisy. "You're excused, Daisy."

"No, she's not."

But Santana raises her voice. "Daisy, go."

Daisy quickly scampers from her chair and goes. Quinn flops the upper half of her body onto the dinner table, and Santana grabs her hand. "Baby, I don't see what the harm is in her having friends, even if they are boys. She's new here. This has got to be hard on her."

Quinn sniffles. "I know. I just... I freaked out, when I heard that boy's voice on the phone, you know?"

Santana smiles. "Judy didn't allow you to have calls from boys?"

"Mamma didn't even let me use the phone, Santana. I'm just afraid of her turning out... I don't know. Like Willow, jumping from one boy to the next-"

"Well, you're not exactly a shining example of virtue in that department, Quinn. You do realize that, right?"

"I was until I met you."

.......................

 

Their house is cold and dark and cool, or at least that's the way it seems to Quinn. It's definitely nice, and definitely not cheap, and probably the best out of all of the houses in the neighborhood, but it still isn't the kind of house Quinn can call home. It's modern and sleek, and the kids love it, even Jaeger, whose room is a definite downgrade, but to Quinn, it feels like she's living in a hotel, the only exception being that she can't actually leave, that she might be stuck here for the rest of her life.

She hardly ever does leave, only to pick up Daisy. She has been meaning to join a gym, but they have a treadmill here, and it's become a habit to order her groceries online and have them delivered to the front door. Sometimes she almost convinces herself she is an agoraphobic, but then remembers her past life didn't use to scare her, it's just this new one. She doesn't know if Santana notices or even cares, one never knows with her, but then one Saturday she comes home looking perky and happy, a flyer in her hand.

"Quinn, look."

Quinn, almost dreading what's coming without knowing why, reads through the piece of paper. It takes a while for the information to sink in, that their local college is looking for someone to teach a new dance class.

"Where did you get this?"

"I went to the community college to pick up some stuff. It was on their bulletin board."

Quinn stares at the limp pink flyer in her hand. "But, Santana, I have no real teaching experience."

"I know Quinn, but it's the community college, not fucking Juilliard."

Quinn looks at the slip sadly, then up at her wife. "Do you want me to do this?"

Santana shrugs. "No, I... I thought you would want to. You need to get out of the house."

"I know."

.................................

She's scared shitless when she makes the call. To her surprise, a bored voice informs her that she will be teaching mostly adults and senior citizens, and even though they ask if she has experience, they don't honestly seem to care. She is offered the job on the spot, before she can even refuse it, and is told to show up next Monday afternoon at seven and given a classroom number.

Santana is more excited by the prospect than Quinn herself, but it makes her feel good, to make Santana proud, so she actually begins looking forward to it a little. Santana even takes the afternoon off, to drive her, and drops her off with a kiss, promising to be back for her in an hour.

The community college marks the first time in her life Quinn has actually been inside an institution of higher learning. She had never visited Finn in college, Judy had deemed it inappropriate, and the day of his graduation, she had gotten sick with food poisoning and had been unable to attend. She had never gone to work with Santana either, she'd never invited her and Quinn thought it might have been because her wife thought she'd be out of place.

She knows a community college isn't the same as a real college, but she's still underwhelmed by the facilities. Room 102 actually is a tiny dance room, thank God, but the hardwood floor looks like it hasn't been cleaned in ages, there is only one mirror with a crack running through it and there is no barre. She grabs a nice, clean t-shirt from her duffel, one of Santana's university ones, her favorites, pours some water from her water-bottle on it and tries to get the floor as clean as possible. Then, she puts on her ballet slippers, ties them, and sits down on the floor, cross-legged.

About fifteen minutes pass by when she realizes no one is going to show up, and tears begin welling up in her eyes. She curses Santana in her mind, for letting her get her hopes up, that this might be a chance, a shot at something. She walks home, not bothering to wait for her. It takes her nearly an hour to get there, and when she does, she heads straight to her room, tucks herself into a corner, and cries bitterly.

Santana waits outside for thirty minutes and tries calling Quinn's cell, but receives no answer. Worried she might have gotten lost, she goes inside, and asks about the dance class. Her heart sinks when no one seems to know anything about it, and she goes through every single classroom in the building until she finds 102, the only one that looks like it might host a dance class. There is a sign-up sheet posted on the door. Quinn decorated it with hearts and flowers, the way a child might have. It states the time of the class and the name of the instructor, Quinn Lopez. It is the first time she's seen the name in print, seen Quinn use it at all, and she would be happy, very happy, if the fact that there are no other names on the sheet wasn't breaking her heart.

She finds Quinn in her corner when she gets home and just wraps her arms around her. Quinn sobs very quietly, her eyes so swollen from crying that she doesn't even look the same, doesn't even look pretty.

...................................

 

She is on the bed when she wakes up, to Santana prodding her leg with a bare toe.

"Quinn, Quinn, wake up."

She opens one eye, just barely, her face still swollen and unrecognizable.

"What do you want?"

"Daisy's outside."

"Tell her to go away."

"I can't. She wants to ask you about mother-daughter day."

"Shit."

"You forgot?"

"Yeah."

"Well, there's still time. I'll make breakfast."

But Quinn only shakes her head. "Santana, look at me. I can't go out like this."

"You don't have a choice, Quinn. You can't just quit being a mother when it isn't convenient."

"I know. Do you really think I need a sermon right now?"

Daisy is knocking more insistently on the door now. "Mommy? Are you ready?"

Santana goes to open the door, but Quinn stops her. "Santana, I can't let her see me like this. I already have one daughter that thinks I'm weak and useless, I'm not going to have another one."

"So you're just gonna lock yourself in here? That shows courage."

"I don't give a fuck what you think. All I'm gonna tell you is you better not let her in here."

"Quinn, what am I supposed to tell her?"

"I don't know. You think of something. You're her mother, too."


	19. Chapter 19

When Santana goes outside, making sure to lock the door behind her, Daisy is sitting cross-legged in the hall and waiting expectantly.

"Where's my mom? We're gonna be late."

Santana stalls, something she never does, but sometimes she finds Quinn's children more intimidating that anyone else in the planet.

"Uh, look, Daisy, I know you were really looking forward to going with your mom but, uh... see, the thing is, I've been wanting to spend more time with you and Elliott, and so I asked your mom if I could come instead of her and, well, she really wanted to go, but, I convinced her in the end."

Daisy doesn't look exactly thrilled, out of all of Quinn's kids, she's the only one who hasn't exactly warmed up to Santana. She tries not to think about it as she fixes Daisy a large breakfast; eggs, pancakes and orange juice. She calls in sick to work, the first time in her life she's ever done so, and doesn't bother to change out of her running gear, because Daisy doesn't ask her to. Instead, Daisy goes to her room and changes her own outfit, even though she'd been planning what to wear for days. It doesn't matter anymore, because she was supposed to match Quinn.

.................................

 

It's all going great until they go around in a circle, introducing themselves. Santana sets Daisy on her lap and smiles the friendliest smile she can manage, and says "My name is Santana, and this is my daughter, Daisy."

An inquisitive redheaded boy with a name tag reading Ryan turns to Daisy. "I thought your mom was that lady who picks you up after school."

Santana had been so pleased with herself for finding a solution to this morning's problem that she never thought that this might come up. She is saved from having to give an answer, however, by Daisy promptly throwing up, as if on cue, all over herself.

Santana makes her apologies and they head back home, the ride silent. Santana takes off her top, grateful the sports bra she's wearing is still clean, and glances at Daisy, who's fallen asleep in the passenger's seat. When they get to the house, she picks her up and carries her out of the car. Quinn runs to the door and watches Santana walk up the driveway with Daisy in her arms, muscles straining and flexing.

Inside, she helps her lay Daisy on the couch.

"What happened?"

"She threw up."

"Oh."

Quinn doesn't ask anything else, but instead runs her hand down Santana's bare stomach, and Santana laughs incredulously. "Are you serious? Right now?"

A part of her wants to say no, but the problem is, she can never say no to Quinn. So she follows her into the bedroom and vaguely thinks that maybe they should be doing something about Daisy instead of doing this, but it doesn't matter, the way nothing matters when she has this woman naked in front of her.

....................................

 

They both sleep through the night, and Santana can't believe it, that they forgot all about Daisy. She rushes to the living room as soon as she remembers, tripping over the sheets, and finds her nuzzled peacefully against the sofa cushions, her face clean and cool. Santana smiles slightly, children never cease to amaze her, and carries Daisy into her room.

She makes breakfast for her and Quinn, poached eggs and grapefruit juice, and brings it into the bedroom. She ties the curtains back and opens the windows, to let air and light in, and her wife groans. Santana sets up their little breakfast tables, and Quinn sits up and flashes her a sweet smile. "How's Daisy?"

"She's all right. Still sleeping. I put her in her bed."

Quinn nods and they eat their breakfast in silence. Santana takes a wash of grapefruit juice and clears her throat.

"Listen, Quinn, I'm just gonna lay it out there. I think you need to go to therapy."

Quinn's not sure she even understands the words coming out of Santana's mouth. "What? What are you talking about?"

"I just... I think you need to. I can't believe Finn never brought it up."

"Finn liked me the way I was."

"This has nothing to do with that, Quinn. It just worries me that you're here alone all day, with no one to talk to."

"I could talk to you if you were around more often."

"I don't want you to talk to me. I want you to have friends and do things, like you used to."

"Santana, it's been a long time since I had friends."

"I know, and I know I'm partly to blame. I shouldn't have let you... you should have kept in touch with Kitty."

"Kitty didn't want to keep in touch with me."

"Quinn, it doesn't have to be like that here, you could-"

"No."

"Why not? Is it because you're afraid of telling people about us?"

"No."

"Quinn."

"Santana, it's going to take a while for me to get used to the idea that I'm not the person I was anymore. I don't know how to walk through life like I'm some bad-ass lesbian when a couple of months ago I was a heterosexual housewife."

"Which is why I think therapy would help."

"No. I'm not ready. Maybe one day I will be, but not now."

Santana sighs, exasperated. "Well, then at least give the dance class one more try."

"I didn't give up on the dance class, it gave up on me."

"So no one showed up the first time. Go back there and see if someone shows up the second. You got nothing to lose."

"Except for my time. And my dignity."

"No one is going to know."

"You are."

"You don't have to tell me. You can always lie to me, tell me it went great, if me knowing about it bothers you so much."

"Nobody wants their... partner to know they're a failure, Santana."

"Baby, you are not a failure because no one showed up to a class you haven't even had a chance to teach."

Quinn sighs. "If I go back, will you lay off me?"

"I'm not laying on you, Quinn."

Quinn smiles a little. "You could be, if you wanted to."

Santana groans. "There's just no pleasing you, is there?"

"No. But you can try."

They move the tables and roll over each other, and Quinn is so loud Santana is sure the children will be awake by the time they get out of the room, but she would, for nothing in the world, ever tell her to be quiet.

When they're done and Quinn's head is resting on Santana's stomach, she asks. "What if no one ever shows?"

"I promise if you go again and no one shows up, I'll take your class myself."

This makes Quinn giggle, and Santana knows she laughing at her, but she doesn't mind it at all.

....................................

 

When Quinn gets to room 102, she finds the door closed, but hears people laughing inside. Her heart races; she had been so sure it would be empty, and now she's not sure she's ready to face what's inside. Maybe it would have been better if it had remained the way it was.

She opens the door and finds a crowd of seven or eight, young and old, men and women. They're laughing and bouncing across the room, all supremely awkward, but none as awkward as her wife, in her orange sweats. Quinn sees her and runs to her and Santana wraps her arms around her, self-conscious but happy, because everyone is staring. Quinn feels her eyes tearing up, but manages to keep them from spilling when Santana spins her around and introduces her to everyone.

"Everyone, this is my wife Quinn. Quinn, this is... everyone."

They're all Santana's colleagues, her closest colleagues from the look of it, and for a moment Quinn is embarrassed she doesn't know them. When they start saying their names, however, she realizes she knows every single one, maybe not by their face, but by Santana's stories.

There is that really young surgeon, and the secretary who's always chewing gum, and Dr. Wu, that researcher Santana's so in awe of. They make the class so much fun it passes by in an instant. Most of them are terrible, with the exception of the tiny Dr. Wu, who must do yoga or something because she's supremely graceful. In the middle of the whole thing, Quinn feels herself feeling nostalgic for it already, because it is clear that they will not be back a next time, that it was only Santana's attempt to try to cheer her up.

They all shake hands with her when they leave, and tell her it was a pleasure to meet her and actually look like they might mean it. When they are left alone in the room, Quinn buries her head into Santana's chest, and Santana kisses the top of her head.

"See, they aren't so bad, are they?"

"No. I wish I'd agreed to meet them sooner. Thank you."

"For what?"

"You know."

"So, can I expect you to come with me next time there's a party at work?"

"It's a date."

................................

 

Next time, she is still dead nervous no one will show up. Fifteen minutes have passed and she's getting ready to leave when a nimble hand knocks on the half-open door.

"Excuse me? Can I come in?"

"Sure."

She gets the door, opens it wider, and finds Dr. Wu standing in front of her. "Oh."

"Hi. Am I still on time for class?"

"I... I guess so, I mean, you're the only one here."

Dr. Wu smiles and puts down her stuff.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Wu, but... did Santana ask you to come?"

Dr. Wu looks at her strangely. "No, Quinn. I liked your class. I decided to come back."

"Oh." Quinn looks at Dr. Wu for a moment, then decides she better not scare off her only student. "OK, uh, we're gonna start with a few basic warm-up stretches."

Dr. Wu nods. She's surprisingly good at following Quinn. They continue stretching and chatting for the first half of the class, and Quinn finds that she can actually hold her own in conversation with this woman. It's strange, because it's been so long since she talked to anyone besides Santana.

"Have you danced before, Dr. Wu? You're very good."

"No. You're just a good teacher, that's all."

"Oh, no. I hardly have any experience, just with children."

"Maybe that's why you're good. It's not easy, teaching kids."

Quinn scoffs a little, and Dr. Wu frowns at her.

"I'm sorry, it's just... what Santana and you guys do is so important and, what I do is hardly-"

"It's tough, being married to scientist. What Santana does doesn't make what you do any less important, or you any less talented."

"But your research saves lives and I-"

Dr. Wu smiles. "I think if you stick around here enough, you'll find this kind of work saves lives too."

............................

 

When Quinn gets home after class, Santana doesn't ask any questions, and Quinn doesn't volunteer. It is something Santana would rather not think about, her wife waiting in that empty room, so she tries to put it aside, because she can't think of a solution, and she hates problems she can't solve.

But the next day, at work, Dr. Wu approaches her.

"We missed you yesterday."

"Huh?"

"In dance class."

Santana takes a minute to process this. "Wait. You actually went back?"

"Yes. Why do you look so surprised?"

"I just... it's very nice of you, but you didn't have to-"

"I know I didn't, Santana. Your wife is a good teacher, although I get the feeling it's not something she hears very often."

"I know she's good. And if I had the time, you know I'd go."

"She doesn't seem to think much of herself, but... you're a lucky girl."

And the worst part about it is, Santana knows.

.....................................

Dr. Wu is right.

In a couple of weeks, she has gathered a small group of students, ranging from a woman her age trying to lose weight to a problematic middle school kid who can't seem to do anything but dance.

This is the last place Quinn would have imagined herself in, with this bunch of misfits, but the relief it brings to her is so real and palpable that she seldom thinks of it like that. In her own way, though she'd never imagined it, she's a misfit too, and maybe that's why doing this instead of belonging to the parent committee, like she did at one point in her other life, seems like less of a burden.

She has to admit, she likes it more, much more than she used to like teaching Daisy's friends at the community center, this is a challenge, this feels like something. She's started to dance more, too, in the mornings, when she's home alone, and she slowly feels music creeping back under her skin and taking up residence there, like it had when she was younger, the one thing she loved even before she loved Finn.

She finds herself teaching extra classes here and there, whenever she can fit them in. It cuts the time she spends with the children short, and as much as it hurts to admit it, sometimes she's grateful for it. Santana can't watch them all the time, but they both reckon they're old enough to be on their own for a few hours a week.

The fact that Santana is busy most afternoons also means Quinn has to walk to and from class, sometimes late at night. Quinn doesn't mind, for once in her life, fear isn't of the utmost importance, and the fact that she can't drive has never been as much of an issue to her. It is, after all, part of who she is. But that day, during dinner, after the children leave the table, Santana brings it up, not for the first time.

"Quinn, I really think you need to go to driver's ed or something. I don't like the thought of you walking home in the dark."

She has, since they got married, acquired a habit of talking with her mouth full. It bothers Quinn more than she can say, but she doesn't dare bring it up, mostly because she thinks this is probably what Santana has been like all along, and what she couldn't be around Sam.

"It's important that you know how to drive. It's necessary."

"You're starting to sound like Finn."

"Is that supposed to be an insult?"

"No. Finn is, like, the best person I know."

"Oh, that's definitely an insult."

"Can we just stop talking about it?"

"You're the one that brought him up. You're the one that's always bringing him up."

"He was a part of my life for twenty years, you can hardly expect me to-"

"Look, this is beside the point. Will you just please go to driver's ed?

"Can't you just teach me?"

"Quinn, I don't have the time, you know that."

"So you just want me to go and learn with some stranger? Do you seriously expect that to work?"

"Why wouldn't it?"

"Santana, Finn tried to teach me himself and it didn't work-"

"Here we go again with Finn-"

"What makes you think I'm going to learn with some stranger teaching me?"

"Fine, Quinn. You want me to teach you, I will. We'll try during the weekend, OK?"

"Not if you're going to be acting like that, we won't."

"Acting like what?"

"Like you're doing me a favor."

"Well, I am doing you a favor."

"Really, well, so am I, every time I have to clean up the mess you leave in the shower, an after you eat, and I don't sit here and try to tell you I'm-"

"I never asked you to do any of that stuff, I told you we could get a maid-"

"I told you I don't want to have a maid-"

"Well, Quinn, that's your problem, not mine."

They're interrupted by the unabashed sound of Jaeger coming into the room, closely followed by Elliott and a crying Daisy, and everything stops as the children stare into the eyes of the adults.

"Daisy and Elliott and I would like to know why you're fighting," Jaeger states solemnly.

"Well, this is none of Daisy's, Elliott's or your business, Jaeger," Santana says sternly.

"It is our business, because we can hear it all the way to our rooms and it's very upsetting."

Santana brings a hand to her forehead and rubs her eyes, obviously tired. "Sorry, guys. We weren't fighting, just having a discussion, and it got out of hand. Please go back to your rooms. We promise not to disturb you anymore."

Jaeger nods, and, grabbing his sibling's hands, leads them out the dining room.

Santana picks up her dishes and shoots Quinn a dirty look before dumping them in the kitchen sink and leaving for work again.

...........................

 

It's recess and Daisy and Elliott are in the playground, building sand castles with a couple of Daisy's classmates. Elliott has had such a hard time making friends that he has taken to hanging out with Daisy's instead. Even though he is in the same classroom as Jaeger, and Jaeger has tried to get him to play with his new friends, he isn't interested. Jaeger likes to play soccer or basketball during recess, and sports still aren't Elliott's thing. He doesn't really talk to Daisy's friends, but he talks to her, and she seems happy to have him around.

A redhead Elliott's never seen before approaches them that day, and he can feel his sister tensing up.

"Who's that, Daisy?", he whispers as they continue building their castle.

"Oh, no one, that's just Ryan."

"Is he your friend?"

"Uh-" Daisy is about to say something when Ryan crouches down on the sand next to them.

"Hi, Daisy."

"Hi, Ryan," she says, avoiding his eye.

Elliott glances up just in time to see a soccer ball flying their way. It lands smack in the middle of their sand castle, destroying the whole thing. He's about to go get a teacher when he sees Jaeger running towards them, flashing his infectious, apologetic smile. "Sorry, guys." Elliott grins back, shaking his head. He'd forgive his stepbrother for anything.

He's missed out on the argument breaking out right next to him, until he hears Daisy shrieking. "No, we don't!"

Immediately, he runs to his sister's side. "Daisy, what's wrong?"

But Daisy just looks like she's about to burst into tears. There is another redhead standing next to them, Eric, a classmate of Elliott's. Elliott turns to Ryan.

"What did you do to her?"

Eric takes a step forward. "He didn't do anything. We just asked her if it's true you guys have two moms, 'cause Ryan says you do."

Elliott feels like someone punched him in the chest, and he just gaps at Eric, until he feels a steady, familiar presence behind him. "Yeah, we do, so what?"  
Jaeger is holding the soccer ball and looking defiantly at the two brothers, and Elliott has only seen his stepbrother be nice, but at that moment has no doubt he could be cruel too.

"Well, two women can't have children."

Jaeger looks at him blankly. "Well, duh. We have dads, too."

"Where are they?"

"That's none of your business."

"You just don't wanna tell us because you're embarrassed."

"If I was embarrassed, I would have lied."

"I'd be embarrassed if I was you."

"Well, you're not us, are you?"

"Oh, I don't know, your brother and sister look pretty embarrassed."

Jaeger glances behind him, at Daisy and Elliott, mute and red-faced, and speaks to them as much as he does to Eric.

"They've no reason to be embarrassed. My mother and their mother are together because they love each other, who gives a fuck if they're women?"

It becomes apparent to Elliott, then, that out of the three of them, Jaeger is the only one who understands exactly what it is that happened between Quinn and Santana.

Eric raises his voice. "I give a fuck, Ryan gives a fuck, and we'll see who else gives a fuck when they find out you guys live with a par of dykes-"

Elliott doesn't even know what's happening, but when he glances at Jaeger again, he's on top of Eric, and there is blood all over his hands. Elliott screams, he's always hated the sight of blood, and for a moment he thinks it might be Jaeger who's hurt, until he stands up and kicks some sand into Eric's bloody face, for good measure. Daisy and Ryan are both crying, and in no time, a pair of teachers are approaching and dragging them all away.


	20. Chapter 20

I should have said something, Quinn thinks later. I should have said something and apologized to my children and not been such a coward about the whole thing, but the truth is, to her, what had happened the day before felt like a fight, even if Santana said it wasn't. Her and Finn had never fought, her children had never had to witness these kind of scenes between two people who were supposed to love each other, because love was the reason they'd given for every upheaval their children's lives had undergone in the past months.  
She's standing in the middle of the kitchen, a wet cloth in hand, when her thoughts are interrupted by a ringing phone. She almost doesn't pick up, she's been uneasy about the phone ever since that call for Daisy, but she tells herself to stay calm..  
A curt, clipped voice informs her that one of her children has gotten into a fight and they need to see her at school, right now. This is one of the few times she has ever painfully felt the need for a car, because she doesn't know if she should run there and debates between this and calling a cab, finally deciding that she'd rather run than sit and wait for it to get there.   
She's running down the street, a mess in her leggings and sweatshirt, and wet cloth still in hand. She forgot her purse and looks exactly like she promised herself she would never look when she first married Finn. In all the commotion, she didn't even think to ask which one of her children it was, and she plays a guessing game in her mind as she runs. Elliott has never been in a fight, but he's been picked on plenty, maybe this time, he decided to get even. And Daisy has been acting so strange lately. Jaeger... she doesn't really know Jaeger that well, she realizes with a start. She never asked Santana if he was a fighter, she never asked anything about him, figuring she would find out as she went, but there are so many things she still doesn't know, things that, she realizes now, will need to be asked.   
She runs into the principal's office, only half aware of how she must look, and immediately, her eyes land on Jaeger, sitting on a bench with a blood-stained t-shirt, Daisy and Elliott next to him, both of them crying in silence.  
.................

There is a hysterical voice mail on Santana's phone, and she rushes home as soon as she hears it, even though she can't even understand what her wife is saying. She doesn't even park the truck, just leaves it there, in the middle of the street. She finds the front door unlocked and runs in, but everything looks so clean and quiet and still she can't possibly figure out what's wrong.   
“Quinn”, she yells. The only answer is her own voice, bouncing back at her from within the walls. She runs around the house, yelling her wife's name until she reaches their bedroom and finds her there, sprawled face down on the bed.  
“What the fuck happened?”  
Quinn murmurs something Santana can't hear.  
“What?”  
“Children.”  
“The children? Are they OK? Where are they?”  
“They're OK. In their rooms.”  
The door is still open, and Santana takes advantage of this to yell out. “Jaeger! Elliott! Daisy! Get in here!”  
They soon come, the troop led, as usual, by Jaeger, whose shirt is stained with blood that Santana can tell, just from looking at him, is not his own.  
“What happened?”  
No one says anything and Santana turns to her wife, but Quinn just buries her face into the pillows again. Jaeger tugs at the bloodstain on his shirt uncomfortably. “Well, it's all my fault, obviously.”  
“Obviously. What happened?”  
He doesn't say anything, and Daisy bursts into tears. Santana puts her arms around her gently, but she's stiff as a pin.   
“Why are you crying, Daisy?”, she asks as she lets her go.   
Elliott puts an arm around his sister. “Because she thinks it was her fault, but it wasn't.”  
Jaeger nods. “It wasn't. Daisy and Elliott didn't do anything, I was the one--”  
Quinn sits up, a tired look on her face. “Jaeger, go to your room. All of you. Go to your room.”  
Once they're gone, Quinn turns to her, and Santana wonders how someone who gets so much sleep can possibly look so exhausted.   
“It wasn't much of a fight, according to the principal. He says Jaeger almost broke the boy's nose.”  
“Good lord.”  
“Yeah, but... it wasn't his fault, Santana. He... the boy was asking Daisy about her two moms.”  
“Oh.”  
“As I'm sure you can imagine, the walk back home was hell.”  
Santana nods. “And I'm going to have to go talk to the boys parents?”  
Quinn nods. “Tomorrow at two. I would have said I'd go, but--”  
“He's my kid.”  
“No, he's our kid. And what he did was brave, I told him that.”  
“Quinn, he can't go around hitting people because they bring up--”  
Quinn colors up. “It wasn't... the kid called us dykes. That's why Jaeger punched him.”  
To her surprise, Santana bursts out laughing. “That's what we are, Quinn.”  
“I know, but... if I'd been there, I would have cheered Jaeger on.”  
“Is that what Daisy and Elliott did?”  
“No. They stood in the sidelines watching, apparently.”   
Santana pats her arm. “Give them some time. They're still getting used to it.”  
...............

The meeting with the other boys parents doesn't go at all like Santana thinks it's going to go. She recognizes the mother, from the other day at mother-daughter day, and the father is there too. They're both plump and bland and unassuming, and surprisingly brown-haired and lacking their kids' fiery temper. For a moment, Santana feels alone, and wishes she had asked Quinn to come with her, but Elliott and Daisy are not the only ones who need time. But then again, she thinks, the kids were thrown into this, and Quinn did not only choose it, she actively sought it, in the desperate way one seeks happiness when you have gone so long without it.  
The Hendersons turn out to be, not blatant homophobes, like Santana expected, but well-meaning people with no idea how to raise their children. They are mortified to learn the reason for the fight, and refuse Santana's offer to pay for Eric's medical bills, because, unsurprisingly, they're both doctors. She ends up not having to apologize, but being apologized to profusely, and walks out of there feeling slightly better with the world at large. Honestly, she can't tell to tell her wife about it, and it would all seem an amusing anecdote if she didn't know, for a fact, that Quinn had lost a whole night's sleep over it.   
......................

When she comes home from teaching class the next day, Quinn is surprised to find Willow sitting at the kitchen table, eating and talking to Santana like she belongs there. She does belong here, Quinn thinks. Her eyes meet Santana's, questioning, but Santana just smiles and shrugs a little.  
A rare grin crosses her daughter's face when she sees her, and she gets up from her stool to give her a half-hug. Her hair is longer since they last saw each other, reaching down to her waist, and now dyed an odd raspberry color, somewhere between red and purple hues. “Hey, mom. How are you?”  
Quinn's a little taken aback by the whole thing, by Willow just sitting here like it's an everyday thing, when Quinn knows she would have never come without reason. “I.. I'm good, Willow, thank you.”  
“I never thought there'd come an afternoon when I'd be here and not find you in the house.”  
“Yeah, I...” She feels slightly guilty, about not being home, and is trying to find a way to apologize for it, but Willow just grins. “I'm glad. I'm happy for you.”  
“Santana tell you about the dance classes?”  
“Yeah, she says you really like it.”  
Quinn nods. “So, to what do we owe the honor of your visit? Do you need money? Is your dad giving you enough? Are you in trouble?”  
Willow's smile fades from her face slightly, and to Quinn's surprise, she doesn't look upset or angry, only a little like she's feeling sorry for her mother.  
“No, mom. I'm fine. Dad gives me more than enough, and with what Santana sends--”  
“What?”  
Santana flinches a little and shakes her head at Willow, who looks surprised, back and forth between them.  
“Mom, you didn't know?”  
“Obviously not. Your father and I agreed that he was to be responsible--”  
Santana interrupts. “I know, Quinn. But he gives us money for Elliott and Daisy, and I felt it was only right--”  
“He gives us money because he's their parent--”  
“And Santana's mine, mom. For better or for worse.”  
Santana smiles a little, but Quinn dismisses it with a wave of her hand.  
“Yes, I know, but Finn makes much more money than we do, I don't even know where you would get the money to--”  
“Out of my inheritance, Quinn, if you must know.”  
“Oh.”  
It startles Quinn into silence, because Santana has refused to ever spend even a dime of her inheritance, wanting to prove to the world that she doesn't needed her parent's money. It is the first time in her life she's ever used it, and Quinn realizes the gesture will make all arguments invalid. She sighs.  
“She doesn't need it, Santana.”  
“I know, Quinn. She's saving it. A woman always needs to have her own money.”  
“Does Finn know you're doing this?”  
Santana turns to Willow. “I don't know. Does he?”  
Willow looks down at the floor and shakes her head. “I didn't tell him, I didn't think--”  
“Good.”, Santana interrupts. “He wouldn't agree, I'm sure.”  
There is an awkward pause between them and then Quinn looks again at her daughter. “So, you didn't tell me, why are you here again?”  
Willow collects a breath and glances at Santana, who gets up and clears their plates quickly. “I'll leave you two alone so you can talk.”  
Quinn watches her go, feeling uneasy, but then realizes this might be good news. Her face brightens up and she looks at her daughter. “You want to come back home?”  
Willow's face falls, and she answers quietly. “Mom, this was never my home.”  
“It could be.”  
Willow shakes her head. “No. That's not what this is about.”  
“Then?”  
Willow sighs. “Mom, Daddy's here, too. He wants to invite you to his wedding.”  
“Already?” They're the first words that come to her mouth, no filter.   
“Yeah. In a month.”  
“Well, where is he?”, Quinn asks, looking around.   
“He, uh, he wanted to make sure you were OK with seeing him first... if not, I can just bring the invitation by tomorrow.”  
“Is he... inviting both of us, or just me?”  
“No, Santana too, of course.”  
Quinn smiles sadly. “That's just like your father. Tell him it's fine, he can come see me.”  
“Uh, mom, I don't think he wants to... maybe I'd be better if y'all just met up at a cafe or something.”  
Quinn nods and writes down the address of her favorite cafe on a piece of paper. “Tomorrow, at ten. After I drop off Daisy. Does he... is he going to want to see the children?”  
Willow shakes her head. “Just you. We're only staying 'til tomorrow.”  
..........................

She'd heard about the engagement from Willow over the summer, but it wasn't real then, not yet. She hasn't seen Finn since they signed the divorce papers, just before they moved away. They talk on the phone or email, but it surprises her that's she's able to say, without exaggerating, that it's actually been years since she's last seen him.  
Santana is washing dishes as Quinn explains what she already knew, what Willow had told her while they waited for Quinn to get home. She shakes her head in disbelief. “Finn never ceases to amaze me.”  
“Why?”  
“He's so civilized about the whole thing. I don't know that I'd be, if it was me.”  
“Do you want to come with me?”  
“I better not.”  
“Are you afraid he'll do something?”  
“Quinn, even I know him well enough to know he'd never.”  
“I haven't seen him in so long.”  
“Do you want to?”  
“It's not about whether I want to. I mean, I sort of have to.”  
............................

Quinn's favorite cafe is pink and Marie Antoinette themed and it makes Finn horribly uncomfortable. Quinn found it when she first arrived in the city, on a day where she got lost and it was raining, and has loved it ever since.  
Finn at first doubts he's in the right place, the city is so unfamiliar to him, but when he walks in, his doubts dissipate almost immediately. The place is solely Quinn, one where he could imagine his ex-wife existing forever. The cafe is empty, and the employees keep staring at him, even after he tells them he's waiting for someone. He's six-two, probably about a foot too tall to be sitting on their adorned cushions.  
Quinn walks in about five minutes late, wearing leggings and a University of Chicago T-shirt in an attempt to hide the couple of pounds she's put on since they last saw each other. Her hair's grown out, about to the length he remembered it, and he wonders for a moment if it's possible to pretend that the other short-haired Quinn never existed, and that this Quinn waltzing into the cafe is the one he always knew. Only that girl would have never worn what she's wearing now out in public, and her hair is no longer blond but a bunch of shades of brown, and he wonders if this is who she was all along, like Willow, chasing change at every turn.  
Quinn grins when she sees him, the same infectious grin he remembers from when they were young, in high school, and he realizes it's been years since he's seen it, even when they were married. He has the distinct impression she's laughing at him a little, her smile amused because of the contrast of his shape and the room. If she were anybody else, he would think she had him come here on purpose, to make him feel awkward and out of place, but he doesn't doubt her good intentions.   
She sits across from him and sets her eyes on him, sparkling like he remembered them, and she reaches across the table and grabs his hand, her voice as breathy as he remembered it.  
“I'm so glad to see you.”  
They bring a silver tray full of assorted pastries, and if Finn knows about their names at all, it's thanks to the woman sitting in front of him. He removes his hand from under hers gently, to help their waiter set the tray on the table, and points to them one by one.  
“Éclair, galette, macaroon, Napoleon, strudel, profiterole.”  
Quinn claps her hands, looking delighted, and Finn shakes his head, laughing. “Can Santana do that yet?”  
Quinn pauses for a moment. “No. Santana chews with her mouth open and devours everything you set in front of her, even if she doesn't know what it's called.”  
“Except meat.”  
“Except meat.”   
Looking at Finn now is like looking at someone she isn't sure she knows. He looks almost the same, more built than she remembered, but older, jagged lines around his eyes and mouth, and she hopes she isn't the cause of them. Finn frowns.  
“But she's... her family... I'm sure she knows--”  
“Oh, she knows. She just doesn't give a fuck.”  
They look across the table at each other, and finally, Finn, not wanting to draw it out any longer, pulls the invitation from his pocket and hands it to her. Quinn stares at it for a long minute, without opening it, and finally, she looks up at him.“You drove all the way here just for this?”  
He shrugs. “You always believed in hand-delivering invitations. And these are important ones.”  
“What's she like?”  
“Hasn't Willow told you?”  
“We don't talk, Finn, remember?”  
“Still?”  
“Probably never.”  
“She looks like you. The California version of you. At least that's what everyone tells me.”  
This makes Quinn laugh, not because it's funny, but because she can't imagine what the California version of her would look like, she doesn't want to. She knows, from Willow telling Santana, that Finn's fiancee is much younger than her, about ten years.  
“Are you happy?”  
“Yes. Are you?”  
Quinn nods slowly. In spite of everything, she's learning to be.   
“How's Santana? I'm surprised she didn't come with you.”  
“She's fine. I asked her to, but... she thought it was inappropriate.”  
Finn laughs, a little bitter. “She didn't seem to care about that before.”  
“She likes you, Finn. She feels bad about what happened.”  
“I know. I like her, too.”  
She opens the invitation. It's fresh, summery, nothing like she would have picked, nothing like what she did pick when she had the chance; white, thick, embossed paper, formal all the way. Her eyes go wide when she reads it, and she looks up at Finn.  
“You're getting married back home?”  
“Yeah.”  
“I... I thought it'd be in California.”  
He shrugs. “I wanted to be close to my friends and family. Our friends and family, I guess.”  
“No. Yours. They're not my friends anymore.”  
“Because you didn't want them to be.”  
“No. Because they picked you over me.”  
“Really, Quinn? This isn't you against me. It never was.”  
“I know, Finn. I'm sorry.” She gets up. “I should probably go.”  
Finn nods and pulls out her chair from behind her. Quinn takes out her wallet, but he shakes his head. “I got it.”  
“Thanks.”  
“So... you'll come?”  
“I'll do my best, Finn.”  
“OK. Good.”  
...................

Santana looks at her all sorts of ways when she comes back from her meeting with Finn, but sees nothing there to worry her too much, and after all, with Quinn it's useless to worry about events until a significant amount of time has passed, because she can be OK one day and stricken with grief the next. Quinn hands her the invitation and looks at her straight in the face, like someone who has nothing to hide.  
“Am I invited?”  
Quinn pulls out the invitation from her purse. Addressed to Mrs. and Mrs. Santana Lopez-Avner. It makes Santana laugh. “He has a sense of humor, still.”  
“Or his wife does.”  
“She's not his wife yet. You still have time.”  
Quinn snatches the invitation from her. “Seriously, Santana.”  
“What? I'm sorry. It was a joke.”  
“When have I ever given you any indication--”  
“I said it was a joke, Quinn, why are you getting upset?”  
“I don't understand why you would say--”  
“So I can't even joke around with you anymore, is that it?”  
“I can't believe it, after I sat there and defended you--”  
“Defended me? From what? From Finn? I don't need you to defend me, Quinn, take me where he is right now and I'll show you.”  
“You're being ridiculous, Finn is a gentleman, what would he think--”  
“I don't give a fuck what he thinks, I don't even give a fuck about him.”  
“I told him you liked him.”  
“I did. Before I messed around with his wife.”  
“I love how you talk about me like I'm not even here.”  
“God, the first thing I told myself when I found out he was coming was that we weren't gonna fight about it, and now look at us.”  
“This isn't about Finn.”  
Santana sighs. “It is for me.”  
“Why?”  
“Because everything about you is about Finn, Quinn.”  
“Santana, you can't possibly be jealous of Finn, I left him to be with you. And I haven't given you any reason to--”  
“I know. I know. I just... sometimes I don't think you are as happy here as you thought you were going to be.”  
“He asked me that today. If I was happy.”  
“And you said you were.”  
“Yes.”  
“But it wasn't true.”  
“Not quite. But, Santana, I'm getting there.”  
“The dancing is helping?”  
Quinn nods, and Santana smiles. “I'm glad.”


	21. Chapter 21

Daisy's still crazy about ballet. She takes it as an elective in school now, and though Quinn always thought it was something she would outgrow, she's glad she hasn't yet. She had asked to attend one of Quinn's classes as soon as she found out her mother was teaching, but Quinn hadn't wanted to take her. She was afraid, of what Daisy would think when she saw the bunch of misfits that attended her mother's class. So she avoided the subject until one day, when Santana stopped by and dropped off Daisy, with no words to Quinn, only a wink. She was mortified at first, but then realized that Daisy wasn't even aware that these people were, well, odd. She was just having fun, dancing and showing off and being oohed and ahhed over like she was the star. Ever since then, Quinn took her with her at least once a week, glad that at least until now, her and her youngest still had something they could share.   
That morning they're having breakfast in the backyard. Quinn is in the middle of heaping a large serving of scrambled eggs on Jaeger's plate when Daisy interrupts. “Mommy, what are we doing for your birthday?”  
“What?”, Quinn asks distractedly.  
“Your birthday, hon,” Santana says gently. “I was wondering about that, too.”  
“My birthday?”  
“Yeah. It's next weekend.”  
“It is?”  
Santana laughs at the wide-eyed look on her wife's face. It's a good sign, it means Quinn isn't brooding about getting older, she's too busy lately. Quinn shrugs uncomfortably. “I don't know. We've never done anything for my birthday before.”  
“Well, this is the first year we're all living under the same roof.”  
“But you and I--”  
“I know we've never celebrated, but that's because you said you didn't like birthdays.”  
“I hardly think getting older is something to celebrate, Santana.”  
Daisy cuts in. “But Daddy used to throw these dinner parties for you. Didn't you like those?”  
Quinn sighs. “That was very nice of your dad, but I never asked him to do that for me.”  
Jaeger talks with his mouth full, just like his mother, but it's such a beautiful morning, Quinn doesn't even mind. “So you didn't like them?”  
“It's not that I didn't, it's just... a dinner party is a lot of work, and it's very stressful, and... who would we even invite anyway?”  
Santana shrugs. “We don't have to have a dinner party. We could have brunch or something. Invite the people from your dance class.”  
Daisy immediately starts jumping up and down. “Yes, mommy, yes, please say yes.”  
Quinn laughs. “Brunch doesn't sound so bad, but... ” She wrings her hands anxiously. “Won't that be expensive?”  
“We could have it here.”  
Quinn glances around their backyard, hesitant. It's certainly big enough, and they already have the garden tables and everything.  
Quinn looks at her doubtfully. “Can we afford that?”  
Santana laughs. “You, miss, are going to be responsible for single-handedly diminishing the Lopez-Avner inheritance.”  
“Oh, Santana, I don't want you to.”  
Santana shrugs. “It's fine, as long as I'm not spending it on myself.”  
….....................

It's been so long since Quinn planned an event that she begins to feel excited about it all over again. She decides to actually make an effort, even though she knows not a lot of people will be attending. Santana gives her the inheritance debit card, seeming almost as excited as she is, and Quinn decides they'll host a formal brunch, and she'll even cook some of the food herself.   
The morning of, she sets her alarm at six thirty, the earliest she's gotten up since the days she ran that marathon with Santana. The memory makes her smile, those were happy days and this one is too, and she marvels at how her wife has managed to sneak sunshine into her life even before Quinn was aware of loving her.   
She isn't surprised to find Santana already awake, but she is surprised to find her in the kitchen, with all their three children, wearing aprons and ready to work. She almost wants to cry but doesn't, and instead just kisses Santana and gets so into it that she hear Elliott groan softly; Finn and her never used to kiss like that in front of the children. She pulls away with a shy smile, but holds on to Santana's hand, and on her wrist, feels her heart beating a mile a minute, and it's reassurance, good to know.   
They set out a long table in the backyard, with a cute blue pinstriped tablecloth and bluebonnets for decor, Santana bought them yesterday and Quinn can only imagine how much they cost. They have everything they can think of in the menu, letting the kids suggest stuff and Santana coming up with the most extravagant things she can think of: Berries with cream, mimosas, scones, vegetarian quiche, red velvet cupcakes (Santana's only reconciling point with the South), bread pudding, fruit crepes, thyme soup, rosemary shortbread, basil and blackberry jam, brie tartlets. They cook part of it; Quinn and Elliott take on the red velvet cake by themselves, it is one of the few things Quinn actually feels confident about making, she learned how once she knew it was her Santana's favorite. The rest, they order from the fanciest catering company in the city, never mind that their guests aren't exactly royalty. Santana is, for the first time in her life, figuring out how much fun spending her inheritance can be.   
Everyone shows up at ten a.m. sharp, and are surprised, Quinn included, by Santana's request that they dance something. Everyone looks horribly hesitant, especially Quinn, but no one is surprised when Daisy volunteers to start things off, going as far as to go change clothes and bringing her ipod so she can dance to some modern rhythm, not exactly ballet, but chaste enough for Quinn to be comfortable with it. The best part of the whole thing, for her, is Daisy's smile, which captures and multiplies sunlight, and her outfit, a blue mix between cowgirl and showgirl that makes her think Santana had been planning this for a long time.   
That's all it takes to put everyone at ease, and they do a quick demonstration class to appease Santana. Quinn picks a fast-paced song with a fun beat, and Santana can see Jaeger's feet tapping against his chair. She wants to tell her son to go join them, but it never does any good, telling Jaeger what to do, so she just watches in silence. It's not until one of Quinn's students, an awkward teenage girl, starts struggling with the steps, that Jaeger jumps in and starts dancing with her. He mimicks easier moves for her to follow, and soon he's created a whole new choreography of his own. Santana had forgotten how good her son was at this, doing turns and spins and pirouttes effortlessly, as good as he was years ago, even though he's had no interest or chance to practice.   
Everyone notices, and starts clapping along, but almost as soon as the cheering begins, Jaeger stops abruptly, and, sullen and sulking plops down on the grass next to his brother. Elliott, who knows better than to say anything to him, just lays a hand on his shoulder. Santana forces herself to tear her eyes away from him and toward her wife's number. She has to admire the variety of her music and choreography choices, none of this is what she would have expected from her, and she wonders how long it really takes to know a person, to uncover all their layers.  
It's over, and they're all clapping for Quinn now, and all of sudden, Daisy's voice is rising above the rest. “Mommy, why don't you dance something?”  
Quinn blushes bright red and shakes her head no way, but pretty soon everyone is cheering and whooping, Santana loudest of all. She surprises herself by thinking that she hasn't danced in front of an audience since she was in high school, and it seems incredible she let it go on that long. Santana grabs her ipod and cocks her head towards Quinn, “Which one?”  
Quinn shrugs. “You pick.”  
Santana's afraid, suddenly, of making the choice, and decides to just let the ipod go on shuffle, and a very, very dramatic, very classical piece of music comes on. Quinn raises her eyebrows in question, but Santana just shrugs and Quinn shrugs back and begins making up steps as she goes along. Only it doesn't seem like she's making them up, it seems like they're all laid out and perfectly planned, like footprints on the dirt that she's just supposed to follow, and the whole thing is so instinctual that she reminds Santana of some animal carving out it's own nest. She remembers that girl from what seems like long, long ago, jumping and bouncing on the bed like dancing was her last chance. When the song comes to an end, she wraps Quinn up in her arms.  
Their guests, aside from Dr. Wu, have no idea what any of the food on the table is, but happily eat it anyway and even take the rest to go, as Santana insists she doesn't want any of it left laying around. Quinn suspects she's just saying it for their benefit, and it makes her heart sing. They end up staying in the yard after everyone's left, talking until it gets dark. Later, when she's tucking a sleepy Daisy into bed and watching as the boys head off to their room, Quinn can't figure out what it is that the five of them could have been talking about for so many hours.  
After the kids are asleep, Santana and her go back outside and stare at the mess in their backyard. They laugh a little and Quinn shivers as Santana wraps her arms around her and whispers into her ear. “Can we get a maid now?”   
They laugh again, low and slow, and head back into their own bedroom, where they lay in bed and take off each other's clothes with the window wide open, to let in the first gusts of warm summer air.  
...........................

She's teaching class when the phone rings, which is odd, because now that her old life is gone, no one ever calls. She picks up almost right away when she sees it's a call from home. She hears wailing in the background, and Daisy's unintelligible screams. Jaeger's voice, on the other hand is cool and detached as he informs her that Elliott has broken his arm. Quinn doesn't even ask how he knows it's broken, just tosses her cell phone into her gym duffel and hysterically starts asking everyone in the room for a ride. Dr. Wu gives her one, and offers to check on Elliott, whom they find sitting on the couch, wincing but calmly eating popcorn with Daisy, while Jaeger immobilizes his arm with a stick and some bandages. Quinn doesn't mean to, but the first thing she does when she runs to her son is push Jaeger off him. Dr. Wu casts Jaeger an admiring look after glancing at the makeshift cast, and nods curtly. “You are definitely your mother's son.”  
She gives Quinn and the children a quick ride to the hospital, where Elliott gets a plaster cast that she can tell he thinks is cool, and she wonders why he isn't being as much of a crybaby as he usually is. Jaeger is running around the hospital halls, peeking into rooms and trying to diagnose everyone with everything, and Daisy won't leave Quinn's side, and she wishes she had someone to help her. Dr. Wu offers to give them a ride back , but Quinn feels they have imposed too much and instead calls Santana and asks her to pick them up on her way from work.  
At night, Quinn tosses and turns in bed. Santana yawns. “What's wrong?”  
“My child has a broken arm, Santana, what do you think is wrong?”  
Santana tries to make out Quinn's face in the dark. “Quinn, honey, it's really not that big of a deal. He's fine.”  
“He's not fine, he's going to have to wear that cast for weeks.”  
“He's excited about it, Quinn.”  
“That's because he's never been seriously injured before, he has no idea what it's like.”   
“Well, maybe it's time he did. Jaeger has broken an elbow, an ankle and a wrist. It's part of growing up.”  
“Yeah, but Elliott's not Jaeger, and I wish Jaeger would stop trying to get him to do stuff--”  
“What are you talking about?”  
“How do you think Elliott broke his arm?”  
“I don't know, you didn't tell me, but I'm guessing you're about to blame Jaeger.”  
Quinn says nothing, so Santana looks at her defiantly. “Well, tell me then. What happened?”  
Quinn shrugs a little and looks down at the floor. “I don't know.”  
“What?”  
“I don't know, they wouldn't tell me.”  
“Not even Jaeger?”  
“Especially not Jaeger.”  
“So you just automatically assume it's his fault?”  
“Santana, Elliott is scared of his own shadow, he would never do anything like that unless--”  
“Unless someone forced him to? And you think Jaeger did?”  
“I'm not saying he forced him, all I'm saying is that Elliott had never had any accidents, not even a scratch, until Jaeger came into his life.”  
“He'd never had any friends either, Quinn. That's what happens when you have friends. Why don't we go ask them what happened?”  
“Right now?”  
“It's as good a time as any, if you wanna catch them off guard.”  
“Santana, no.” But Santana is already making her way down to the boys' bedroom. She opens the door gently and kneels next to Elliott's bed.   
“Elliott?”  
He rubs his eyes with both hands.“Yeah?”  
“Baby, what happened to your arm?”  
Elliott sits up, looking confused. “I broke it.”  
“I know, but how?”  
Elliott fixes his brown eyes on Santana, and for a minute she thinks she's looking at Finn. Elliott keeps quiet, and Quinn turns to Santana. “See?” She rubs her son's arm. “Elliott, you don't have to be scared of getting Jaeger in trouble.”  
But Elliott just looks at them and says nothing, and finally Santana just sighs and kisses his forehead. “Good night, Elliott.”  
He falls back asleep almost immediately. Quinn tries to keep her voice low. “Now let's wake Jaeger.”  
“I'm not going to wake him up to accuse him of--”  
“Oh, but you were fine with waking Elliott.”  
Santana sighs. “Let's just ask Daisy. She'll know.”  
Quinn wonders why she didn't think of this before, it should have been obvious, since the whole afternoon Daisy was oddly silent. This time, it's Quinn who wakes her. Her daughter looks at her blankly, even after she asks the question, and Quinn can't tell if it's because she doesn't know, because she's afraid to tell or because she's still sleepy. They're on the verge of giving up when they hear soft, padded steps making their way across the hall and turn to see Jaeger enter the room. “What's going on?”   
“Nothing, Jaeger,” Santana half-snaps. “Go back to bed.”  
Jaeger takes a good look at Daisy's pale face. “You're asking her about Elliott's broken arm.”  
Santana sighs, irritated. “So what? We have a right to know what happened?”  
“Yes, but why do you have to come and terrorize her? She didn't do anything, mom. Why didn't you just ask me?”  
“Quinn says she asked you earlier and you refused to give an answer.”  
Jaeger turns his almost-white eyes on Quinn, and for the first time it strikes her that she's not the only one with unusual eyes.  
“I didn't refuse to answer, I just didn't want to say anything because I thought Elliott should explain, but fine. I was climbing a tree in the backyard, and I told Elliott to climb with me. He didn't want to, but I called him a chicken. I didn't think anything was going to happen to him, only it did.”   
His nonchalance immediately gets on Quinn's nerves. Santana doesn't believe in grounding, she has never had to ground Jaeger before, but now, with Quinn's eyes upon her like fire, she snaps out a punishment for her son. Daisy is staring at Jaeger, wide-eyed, but he just ruffles her hair before he leaves the room.  
The morning Quinn calls Elliott into their room and holds his hand tenderly. “Jaeger told us what happened.”  
Elliott starts tearing up. “I'm such a big baby, I just--”  
Quinn interrupts. “That you didn't want to do it doesn't make you a baby, Elliott, don't let Jaeger put ideas into your head. You're not like him, he's a different kind of boy and that's fine, but it's not right for him to push you to do things--”  
“Mommy, what are you talking about?”  
“I'm saying I understand this wasn't your fault, Jaeger shouldn't have--”  
“Wait. What did Jaeger tell you?”  
Santana cuts in. “That he pushed you to climb the tree and that's why you fell.”  
Elliott sighs. “No. I saw him climbing and wanted to do it, too. He told me not to.”  
“Elliott, you don't have to lie to try to cover for Jaeger--”  
“I'm not. Ask Daisy.”  
They call Daisy into the room, and she looks just as blank-faced and terrified as yesterday. Elliott pats her arm. “It's OK, Daisy. I already told them.”  
“Me and Jaeger told him not to do it.”  
Elliott turns to Quinn. “See? I told you?”  
“Elliott, what in the world would possess you to do something like that?”  
“I don't know.”  
“What do you mean, you don't know?”  
Elliott shrugs. Santana looks almost relieved, and Quinn looks at her and Daisy, annoyed. “Why didn't you say something, Daisy?”  
“I didn't want them to get in trouble.”  
“Why would Jaeger get in trouble?” Santana asks.  
Quinn turns to look at her. “What do you mean why? He lied to us.”  
“He was lying to protect Elliott,” Santana says heatedly.  
“I don't know why he did it, and I don't care. It's still lying.”  
Elliott cuts in.“I lied, too.”   
“No you didn't, you just didn't say anything.”  
“So Jaeger gets grounded but Elliott doesn't?”  
“Elliott didn't do anything, all he did was climb a tree, you want me to punish him for that? He would have never even thought of it if he hadn't seen Jaeger do it.”  
“I'm not saying Elliott should be grounded, all I'm saying is that I don't Jaeger should be either.”  
Santana calls Jaeger into the room. He arrives promptly, looks at the four of them and rolls his eyes. “This again? Can't you guys just leave it alone already?” He turns to Quinn. “I'm already grounded, isn't that enough?”  
Quinn tries to ignore his tone of voice. “Why did you lie to us?”  
“About what?”  
“Elliott says you lied.”  
Elliott and Jaeger look across the room at each other, in a way so intense it makes Quinn feel uncomfortable.  
“Well?”  
Jaeger sighs. “Elliott was too embarrassed to tell you what happened, and I didn't want to embarrass him more.”  
A small smile breaks out in Elliott's face for the first time that day. That annoys Quinn too, and her voice is sharp when she talks to Jaeger.  
“Jaeger, in the future, please refrain from risky behaviors like those, especially in front of Elliott. As I'm sure you can see, he's very impressionable.”  
Elliott and Santana look like they want to argue, but Jaeger just shrugs. “Fine. I won't climb a tree ever again in my life.” He heads back to his room, and as he does, Elliott stands up. “Jaeger--”  
But Jaeger keeps walking, only turns back to look at his brother with a half-smile. “It's fine, El. Beats you getting hurt.”


	22. Chapter 22

The occurrence leaves Quinn with a sensation of unease that lasts through the whole day. At night, once they're in bed, she fiddles with the phone, because she knows she's going to have to call Finn and tell him, and it's not something she's looking forward to. She brings up her legs to her chest and buries her head between her knees. Santana glances at her.

"Do you want me to leave so you can talk in private?"

Quinn's voice comes out muffled. "I don't know." She wails a little. "Santana, how am I gonna tell him? This is all my fault. I should have been here watching them."

Santana pats her on the head. "No, it's not, and you know it." She grabs her book and a blanket from the bed. "I'm gonna leave you alone so you guys can talk."

Quinn finally grabs the phone and dials. Finn picks up almost right away. They make small talk for a few minutes, and then she stalls.

"Quinn, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she says automatically.

"It's fine, whatever it is, you can tell me."

"Elliott broke his arm," she says reluctantly.

She can hear the immediate chill taking over Finn's voice. "How did that happen?"

"He fell off a tree."

"Elliott was climbing a tree?"

"Yeah."

"But he hates that stuff."

"He's changing, Finn. He's growing up."

"It's completely out of character for him. There's something you're not telling me."

Quinn's voice starts to rise unwittingly. "Why don't you ask him if you don't believe me?"

"Let me talk to him, then."

"He's asleep."

"Yeah, no wonder you waited until now to call me. When did this happen?"

Quinn flinches. "Yesterday."

It is only the second time, in the twenty years she's known Finn, that they've ever argued. It would seem strange, if she wasn't so used to doing it with Santana that this just seems like a continuation.

From the living room, Santana hears Quinn's voice rising on the phone and frowns. She's never heard her argue with Finn before. She gets up from the couch and heads to their room, pausing behind the closed door.

Finn's voice booms on the phone. "Just tell me one thing. Was that boy with him?"

"What boy?"

"Jaeger."

"He's not that boy, he's his brother. And yeah, he was with him, and he told Elliott not to do it, but your son decided to be stubborn and-"

"Why are you defending that kid? You used to hate him."

"Yeah, and you told me I was overreacting."

"That was before I knew him."

"Well, it was before I knew him too, and let me tell you, he'd rather bear punishment for himself than watch your son get hurt."

"Which is more than I can say for you. Where were you when this happened? Why were they unsupervised?"

"I was teaching a class. I thought they were old enough to stay by themselves for a couple of hours."

"Well, obviously, you thought wrong."

"No, everyone else is fine, I guess it's just Elliott that isn't mature enough."

"Stop trying to blame him. The fact is you should have been there, and you weren't."

They hang up on not a much nicer note. Santana comes in the room later, when she hears it quiet. She finds Quinn carefully folding the laces of her slippers and tucking them into a box under the bed.

"What are you doing?"

Quinn looks up at her and doesn't have to say anything. Santana can see her heart, half-broken, through her eyes. "Quinn, you can't."

"He said-"

"It doesn't matter what he said."

"It's what I'd been thinking, all afternoon."

"We can hire someone to watch them."

"I told you I don't want strangers in my house."

"You can't give up your life just to watch the kids."

"They are my life, Santana. When you're a mother you give up everything. That's the way it's supposed to be."

There is no point arguing with her. There never is.  
.............................

The doctor tells Elliott he needs to stay home for a week, and Quinn finds, keeping him company, that she doesn't really miss dance classes as much as she thought.

She never goes back there again, it is more than she can handle, and instead sends Santana with her apologies. She tries to tell her, about everybody's reaction, about what's going to happen to the group, but Quinn doesn't want to hear it and acts like all she cares about is the measly two-hundred dollar check Santana got from one of the secretaries.

The mornings she spends alone at the house with Elliott remind her of how it used to be when he was little. Quinn would spend hours with him, just rocking and cradling him on the rocking chair Finn bought her, hours looking into his eyes. She had done this with each of her children, but with Elliott for the longest, he was the one who would let himself be babied, who seemed to have no interest for the world that extended beyond his mother's arms.

Now, they spend most mornings in Quinn's room, curtains drawn and Elliott on that same rocking chair, the one thing from her previous life that Quinn had insisted on bringing along with her. They watch cartoons, movies, soap operas and daytime talk shows, Elliott's new favorite. Quinn usually snacks on celery or broccoli when she's home, but Elliott hates vegetables, and Quinn hates cooking, so they buy canned food and frozen snacks, and Quinn thanks heaven Santana's always bringing home takeout, because this means she'll never have to look in the pantry or the fridge.

The week goes by so quickly that Quinn allows Elliott to stay another, under the pretense that he still looks drawn and pale. Maybe he wouldn't if he got some sunshine, Santana thinks, but she bites her lip and doesn't say anything.

Two weeks turn into a month, and when Elliott's cast is due to come off, they both realize, with heaviness, that his return to school is unavoidable. Santana is adamant about taking him to his appointment, because she has a feeling that if she leaves it up to Quinn, it will never happen. She's afraid Quinn will hate her if she forces Elliott to go back to school, but the truth is, she's worried about both of them. They don't see it, and they think she doesn't know, but it's obvious from the way their faces are bloated that they do nothing the whole day but eat junk and watch TV. Being fit was the one thing her wife always cared about, and now, even that seems to be slipping from her grasp. Santana is terrified, but tries not to show it.

On top of it all, Quinn has relegated the task of taking Daisy to school, in order to stay home with Elliott. At first, Daisy is too afraid of Santana to complain, but Santana reasons it can't be easy, having to go off to school every day and watch your brother stay home with your mother, until one morning, Daisy refuses to get out of the car.

"Come on, Daisy. I gotta get to work."

"No, I want to go home!", Daisy cries, choking back a sob.

"But why?"

"I don't feel well," she says, clutching her stomach. "I wanna go home."

Santana takes her back that day, but isn't surprised to see it happening again the next day. That's when she resolves it has to stop, even if Quinn will hate her for it, she doesn't care. She takes Elliott to his last doctor's visit, and brings Daisy along. She smiles triumphantly when they come back home.

"Doctor said they're both ready to go back tomorrow."

Quinn watches as her kids make their way to their rooms, obviously not happy about the news. Her unease continues until the late hours of the night, and when she spots her wife placidly reading in the rocking chair, she thinks it might be a good moment to bring it up.

"Listen, Santana, I was thinking... what if I homeschool the children?"

Santana tries to keep the irritation out of her voice. "You're not serious, are you?"

"Why not? You homeschooled Jaeger."

"Which is exactly how I know it's a bad idea."

"You never told me why you stopped." You never tell me anything, Quinn thinks. Not unless you absolutely have to, and it seems like now is one of those times.

"I stopped because Jaeger was getting out of hand."

"Really?" Quinn asks, interested. Santana has never seemed to struggle with Jaeger. "How?"

"Not behavior wise or anything. He was just... getting too smart."

Quinn frowns at Santana. "What?"

"He was picking up science and math really quickly, and I got scared I was pushing him too hard. He never complained but... I didn't want him to turn out like me, always in his head. I wanted him to keep in touch with the world."

What can Quinn say to this? So she doesn't. Santana looks at her and gives her a sad smile.

"I know you like having company, hon, but-"

"They don't want to go back, Santana. Did you see their faces?"

"Of course they don't want to, they shouldn't. Kids never want to go to school. It's much more fun to stay home and watch TV."

"Jaeger likes school."

"He does, precisely because he's been homeschooled before."

"I don't want my children going to a place they hate every day."

"They're going to the best school money can buy, Quinn. They teach them things there that you won't be able to."

"Oh, so I'm too stupid to homeschool now?"

"No, Quinn, will you stop taking everything as a personal offense? That was one of the reasons I sent Jaeger back to school. I knew I could teach him math and science, but there were other subjects I didn't feel confident enough about to teach. I wanted him to get the best education possible."

"Well, maybe I won't know as much as somebody else might, but they're my kids, and at least I know they won't be in better hands than mine, I'm just trying to do what's best for-"

"No, you're not. You're not doing this for the kids. You're doing it for yourself, because you're sad and afraid, but all you are going to do is make them sad and afraid, too. Elliott already takes after you."

It makes Quinn laugh a little, and Santana stares at her like she's crazy. "I'm sorry, it's just that Finn used to say Elliott took after him."

"Really? He reminds me so much of you."

It's not a flattering comparison by any means, but more than that, Quinn finds it frightening, like Santana looked into her and saw that part that secretly feared that what that was wrong with her son was also wrong with her. It makes her appreciate Finn, because maybe he knew all along that Elliott was like her, but tried to blame himself instead.

Quinn's ready to keep arguing, but the phone rings and Santana jumps a little. Quinn's prepared to let it keep ringing, but Santana's glancing at it uneasily, and finally, Quinn explodes. "Pick up, Santana, obviously whatever it is is more important than what I'm trying to say."

"It's not that, Quinn, it's just that...", she sighs and finally picks up. Quinn runs out of the room, slamming the door. She decides to go sleep in Daisy's room, but finds her door locked, and when she's about to try Elliott's and Jaeger's she notices Jaeger coming out into the hall, nonchalantly.

"He's asleep already", he says.

"Oh. What are you still doing up, Jaeger?"

He shrugs. "Couldn't sleep. I'm gonna make myself a sandwich."

The fact that Jaeger even knows how to make a sandwich is surprising enough, because Quinn knows for a fact that up until a couple of months ago, he didn't. Then there is the adult nature of his answers. They used to shock Quinn, but now she's getting more and more used to them.

"Why are you up, Quinn?"

"I..uh-"

"You had a fight with my mom."

"No, Jaeger. Why would you think that?"

"I saw my parents fight plenty. I know all the signs."

Quinn sighs.

"I used to think it was just dad, and that once she got away from him and with you it would stop, but... maybe she's the problem."

"All couples fight," Quinn says automatically.

"You and Finn didn't. Elliott told me."

"No. But Finn and I didn't love each other anymore."

"Well, my mom loves you."

Quinn smiles. "How do you know?"

"Because you're the only thing she ever talks about that isn't science."

"Oh."

"Were you looking for a place to sleep?"

"No."

Jaeger raises his eyebrows at her, in such a Santana-like expression that Quinn gives in.

"OK, fine. I was. But it looks like I'm gonna have to stay on the couch tonight."

"No. You can sleep in my bed."

"And where are you gonna sleep?"

He shrugs. "I'll just crawl into Elliott's bed."

It beats sleeping on the couch, where she'll probably just be cold and afraid. It also means Santana won't be able to find her, maybe she'll think Quinn left.

She slips under the covers of Jaeger's bed, and before he turns off the lights, she realizes how much smaller this must seem to him than his old room, and wonders at the fact that she has never heard him complain, not even once.

"Jaeger?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you miss your old room?"

"Uh, yeah. Sometimes."

"It was a great room."

Jaeger laughs low. "Yeah. It was."

"I'm sorry you have to share, now."

"No, I... sometimes I think I like it better."

"You don't have to lie so I won't feel bad, you know."

"I'm not. I had a lot more things before, but I didn't have anyone to play with."

"You played with your mother."

"Yeah, but... she's not around anymore. I don't know what I'd do, if I didn't have Elliott to play with."

They're both silent for a while, until Quinn feels herself beginning to doze off. She whispers in the dark, doubting Jaeger's still awake.

"Thank you, Jaeger."

"Good night, Quinn."

........................

Santana's phone call takes a while. After she hangs up, she goes looking for Quinn, but can't find her anywhere. Her heart beating fast, she tries Daisy's door, but it's locked. She opens the boys' door then, and finds her on Jaeger's bed, fast asleep. She gathers her up in her arms and carries her back to their bed.

.......................

After Elliott goes back to school, Quinn begins to get the sinking feeling that she can't do people anymore. Everyone gets on her nerves, the cashier at the supermarket, the teachers at school, even her children, and worst of all, herself. She wants to alienate herself from the world, and she's even having her groceries delivered home again, convinced something terrible will happen if she goes out alone.

The hours she spends at home are the ones in which she finds most solace, watching reality TV, looking through celebrity blogs or reading gossip magazines, which she hides from Santana as though they were porn. She feels like a waste of space, mostly when she thinks about what Santana would say if she knew. She used to do the same thing when she was married to Finn, waste time colossally on trivial things, but somehow Finn didn't mind, he thought it was amusing and expected. Santana, however, despises all that stuff, and Quinn has never had the courage to tell her how big a part of her life it's becoming.

"Mamma?"

"Yes, baby?"

"Why won't you take me to school anymore? Or pick me up?"

It is one of those uncomfortable times, when a child asks you something and you don't have an answer.

"Daisy, I... I have a lot of stuff to do around the house. Plus, Santana likes doing it."

"Jaeger says it's because you're afraid to go out."

"That's not true, Days. You've seen me go out."

"Not really, mommy. Not in a long time."

"I went to the post office with your mamma last week."

Daisy rolls her eyes at her. The answer's not nearly good enough and Quinn knows it.

"I don't want Santana to drive me anymore."

"Why?"

"I don't know. It's weird."

"Weird how?"

"We don't talk."

"Well, you're supposed to, Daisy. That's the whole point."

"I don't want to."

"Why?"

"Because I don't like talking."

"You like talking to me. And to your brothers. And your friends."

"Yes, but not to Santana."

"Why?"

"Because she's weird."

"How is she weird?"

"I don't know, she just is."

"She loves you, you know."

Daisy frowns at her. "She doesn't even know me, mommy."

"She's trying to get to know you, Days, that's why she's doing this."

"What if I don't want to know her?"

"Well, you should, Daisy, because she's your mother."

"No, she's not. You are."

"Yes, but now you have two, remember?"

"I don't want to have two. I just want one. And I want my daddy."

"You still have your daddy, Daisy."

"But I want him to be here."

"Yeah, but he's not. Santana is, though, and she loves you very much even though she doesn't know you all that well, and I want you to try harder to be a good daughter to her."

"I don't want to be her daughter."

"Well, then at least try to be her friend, OK?"

.................................

The phone at home is ringing more and more constantly, but only in the afternoons, when Santana is home. They are long phone calls that Santana takes into the studio, looking troubled and slightly manic. Her general mood seems improved, or maybe it's just in stark contrast to Quinn's rotten one, but Santana seems slightly more cheerful than usual, and it isn't long before Quinn starts wondering.

"Are you cheating on me?"

She asks Santana when she comes back from running one morning, and she chokes on the water she was guzzling.

"What?"

"I don't care if you are. I'd deserve it."

"You haven't done a thing to deserve it, Quinn."

"What I did to Finn doesn't seem like enough to you? It's my well-earned karma."

"Well, I'm not, if that makes you feel any better."

"You're not?"

Quinn had been so sure Santana would say yes that she's not prepared as to what to do next. Then all sorts of other terrible possibilities begin clamoring in her head.

"Are you sick then? Are the kids sick? What's wrong?"

Santana frowns at her. "Quinn, what in the world is making you think that something is wrong?"

"Don't treat me like I'm stupid, Santana. Those phone calls you've been getting lately."

"Oh. That."

"Yes. That."

Santana sighs. "Look, I think we need to sit down and talk."

"Let's sit down and talk then."

Santana shakes her head. "Not now. Not here."

"Then?"

"Look, could we... could we maybe go out to dinner tomorrow night?"

She seems almost nervous in asking, probably because it's not something they ever do, and Quinn feels it tug at her heartstrings. As if she would ever say no.

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes.

"No buts?"

"Only one."

Santana grins. "I knew it was to good to be true. What is it?"

"Who's gonna watch the kids?"

"They have that birthday party tomorrow, remember?"

Quinn sighs with relief. Sometimes she thinks she wouldn't mind going out into the world if she didn't have to face it alone, if she could have Santana by her side all the time. Maybe that's the problem.


	23. Chapter 23

The restaurant is very fancy, but Santana doesn't tell her, and Quinn's decidedly dressed-down. She's so fascinated by the Chicago night life, however, that not even that can bother her. The restaurant is in some sort of underground cave, lit only by candlelight and with booths that lurk in shadows. She's beginning to regret she never got to know the city, and wishes Santana had more time to show her around. She says as much, and Santana smiles a little.

"Well, in that case, you're probably going to like the news I've got for you."

She seems anxious, so Quinn just waits, and Santana takes a deep breath.

"Jake's being released."

Quinn tries to piece together the words. "Who?"

"You know, Jake? My brother?"

"Oh. Yeah. I just... you never talk about him. I forget, sometimes."

"I know."

Quinn sips her soup slowly. "So, let's talk about it, then."

"We sort of have to. See, he's gonna be out in a couple of weeks, and... he's coming to stay with us."

"He is?"

"Yes, Quinn. He is."

"I can tell from your tone of voice this is non-negotiable."

"You're right. It is."  
"Santana, we barely have room for ourselves. Jaeger and Elliott already share a room."

"I know. Which is why I'm setting him up in the studio. We don't use it anyway."

"How come they're releasing him?"

"He's been there for years, Quinn. It was time."

"But he's... alright?"

"All right to be around people, you mean? Obviously. Otherwise they wouldn't be letting him out."

"But, Santana... I don't want to sound... are you sure it's the best idea to have him around the children?"

"Quinn, Jaeger's been around him his whole life, and he's fine. I'd trust Jake with Jaeger's life, and you know I wouldn't do that unless I was absolutely certain-"

"I know, I know, it's just... Santana, if Finn ever finds out-"

"He was tried and cleared, as you well know."

"That still doesn't change the fact that he-"

"Quinn, the gun went off, he didn't mean to... you know all this."

"Yeah, I do, but-" But I don't really. You never told me about it, you just expected me to trust you, to take your word that he'd never hurt anyone. And now I sort of have to.

"But you've never even made an effort to try and meet him. I'm sure if you did, you would realize-"

"Santana, couldn't we get him to move somewhere else, like a home or something?"

"The house is his too, Quinn."

"Yes, but I'm sure with the inheritance, he can afford to move somewhere-"

"He can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I signed his release. That means I'm responsible for him, and it means he has to live with me."

"Oh, Santana." Quinn wants to ask why she did it, but she doesn't, because she knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

"I love him, Quinn."

The anguish of this statement reminds her of what this is like, to love someone you know won't be accepted, and she can't anymore turn her back on this than she was able to three years ago, when it came knocking at her door, so she just sighs. "We'll figure it out."

Her wife's eyes are grateful, teary. They hold hands across the table, and when the waiter comes to take their plates, he smiles.

...................................

 

The rides she gives Daisy are the most awkward part of Santana's day. If she was being honest, she would admit she doesn't like to do it. She had thought that it would help her bond with Daisy, which is something she never has time to do, first because she's hardly ever home, and second, because Daisy's always stuck to Quinn's skirts. But the truth is, Daisy makes no effort, to talk or listen or even acknowledge Santana's presence, and she's getting tired of it.

She's driving a little faster than usual today, wanting this to be over, when she hears Daisy scream first and then sees something skid across the road. She swerves the car, and after making sure there are no cars nearby, parks it on the side of the road. Daisy is trembling, and she looks like she's about to burst into tears. Santana lays a hand on her leg, but Daisy recoils. Santana sighs. "It's OK, Daisy. It was probably a skunk."

"It wasn't, it was a puppy. I saw it."

Shit. "Well, it probably died instantly. It didn't suffer."

With Jaeger, this answer would have sufficed, but Daisy doesn't look at all comforted. Santana decides she truly is awful with little girls and turns on the engine again, when she hears Daisy's voice, small and sniffly.

"Mommy, can we stop, please?"  
Santana isn't even sure she's talking to her; she kind of wants to turn around and check Quinn isn't in the backseat. But Daisy is looking at her, and there is a very familiar pleading in her eyes, and Santana knows she should be glad Daisy just called her that, but it's just beginning to dawn on her that it's not just a nickname, it's a responsibility, a huge one, and it starts now.

"Daisy, I don't think we should stop. You have to get to school, and I'm sure whatever it was is probably dead anyway."

Daisy looks away and just nods, and Santana is relieved to find her more sensible than her mother. She drives for about two blocks, and then, with a large sigh, turns the car around. Daisy's eyes go as wide as saucers, and when Santana parks the car next to the thing-that-must-be-dead, she unbuckles her seat belt with a panicked look in her eyes, but Santana holds an arm out and stops her.

"Let me go check first, OK? There's no point in you coming if there's nothing we can do."

Daisy nods, looking relieved she doesn't have to go after all, and Santana jumps off the car, expecting to find a dead, bleeding corpse. She finds, instead, a puppy about the size of her fist, mangy, severely malnourished, and, now, unable to move. He's not dead, but he looks on his way to being, whether from the hit or hunger, she doesn't know. She doesn't hear Daisy get out of the car, she's about to go tell her it was a dead rat and they should leave, when she feels a tiny, warm hand slip into her large one, and a breathy whisper that reminds her so much of her wife. "It's alive!"

"Just barely."

"Santana... I mean, mom-"

"It's OK, Daisy. Santana's fine, too. I don't think I've ever heard you call me by my name before."

And she hasn't, and it's just as touching, like hearing Quinn say her name all those first times. Daisy smiles a little and squeezes her hand.

"Can we take him?"

"Take him where?"  
"Home, so you can cure him."

Santana sighs. "Daisy, he looks like he's doing pretty badly. He might not make it, and I don't want you to take him and just have to watch him die."

"I... I don't care if he dies. I mean, I do care, it's just... if he dies, I don't want him to die here."

Santana's head is beginning to hurt, and so is her heart. She's a scientist, she's been desensitized to dead bodies for a while, but this one just seems to be doing her in, somehow.

"I'm not sure there's much we can do for him, sweetheart."

"Aren't you supposed to be like a doctor or something?"  
"No, Daisy. I'm a biochemist."

"Jaeger says you can cure anything."

"I'm afraid Jaeger was exaggerating."

"Can't you just try? Please? Anything?"

...................................

Quinn's watching her favorite reality show when she hears Santana's car coming up the driveway. What now, she thinks, because it was just minutes ago that she left with Daisy. She turns off the TV quickly and heads to the living room, to see what it is that her daughter forgot this time, but sees no leftover scattered items. She runs out and Santana rushes past her, carrying something in her hands towards the kitchen, Daisy right at her feet.

"What happened?," Quinn yells as she follows them.

"We found a doggy, mommy," Daisy says, breathless. "And Santana almost ran him over, but then he was alive, and now she's gonna try to help him."

Quinn squirms uncomfortably. She doesn't like animals, and this is precisely why. They feel so frail to her, and their deaths so painful it's like playing with fire; she can't imagine anything more vulnerable, something that, in turn, makes you just as vulnerable.

"Santana, but... you're not a vet, are you sure you can-"

"Oh, Santana can do anything, mamma."

Quinn raises her eyebrows. "She can?"

Santana turns to look at her. "Apparently that's what Jaeger's been telling her."

She quickly figures out that the dog is not only starved, but also appears to have a ruptured Achilles tendon. She mutters as much to Quinn, hoping Daisy won't hear, but she's there, standing between them with a cheerful smile.

"OK, so then you can cure him?"

"Umm, no, sweetie. I'm afraid he's gonna need to have surgery."

"So, we'll take him to the vet."

"He's really weak, Daisy. I'm not sure he'd make it."

Quinn sighs and pats Daisy's head. "Baby, please go to your room and change out of your uniform. I'm going to call the school and explain why you missed the day."

"But mom-"

"Daisy, I said go."

"But I don't wanna go, you're just gonna-"

Santana lays a gentle hand on Daisy's arm, and this time Daisy lets her. "Daisy, listen to your mamma, all right? I promise we won't do anything without consulting you first."

Daisy looks her in the eye and, for some reason, decides she can trust Santana. She heads to her room, but not before shooting Quinn a dirty look.

Quinn turns to her wife. "Look at you, winning my girls' hearts."

"I thought that was what you wanted Quinn. You don't know how hard it's been, with Daisy."

Unexpectedly, Quinn throws her arms around her and whispers in her ear. "I know. And I'm so grateful to you, for not giving up on her."

"I'm not proud to say this, but I think I was about to."

On the kitchen counter, the little dog moves restlessly, and Quinn glances at it, frowning. "Do you think he'll make it?"

"Honestly? No."

"So, no point in us spending money on the surgery?"

"No, not really."

"And even if he does make it, there would be the issue of-"

"What to do with him?"

"Yeah. We can't have a dog."

"I know you don't like them, but-"

"It's not even an issue, Santana, because we're not gonna go take him get some useless surgery, so-"

"So we're just gonna let him die?"

Quinn brings a hand to her forehead when she hears her child's voice behind her.

"Daisy, honey, that's not what I'm saying, but-"

"That's exactly what you're saying, mamma."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "How much is this gonna cost, Santana?"

"About two grand."

"Daisy, we don't have two thousand dollars just laying around."

"We could ask dad-"

"No," Santana says flatly. "We'll take it out of the inheritance."

Daisy doesn't know what she's talking about, but her face lights up.

Santana turns to her. "Go get your coat. We're going to the vet."

Daisy runs off, and Quinn sighs. "So two grand, in the trash. Your inheritance is buying my children."

"Well, at least it's good for something."

...............................

To everyone's surprise, except for Daisy's, Nugget lives. Quinn wishes he hadn't, because then there is the issue of what to do with him. Daisy holds Santana's hand while they wait for him to be brought out, and Quinn's pretty sure she knows what Santana is going to say.

Daisy is prattling on nervously.

"And then I'm gonna get him a bed, and it's gonna be pink, and-"

"Daisy," Quinn says, not trying to break the bubble, but wanting her to settle down, at least. "You know we're going to have to find that dog a home, don't you?"

"He has a home, mommy. With us."

"No, Daisy, we can't have a dog, remember?"

"But why? Before it was cause Daddy had allergies, but Daddy doesn't live with us anymore." It is the first time she seems glad about the fact.

"Your mamma and I haven't even had a chance to talk about this."

"So talk about it, then."

Santana's amused eyes flit to Quinn's face. "Yeah. Let's talk about it."

Quinn fixes her eyes on her wife's. "I don't want one."

"I know you don't."

"Do you?"

Santana shrugs. "I never had one when I was little."

"I did. And when they die, it hurts like hell. Especially when you're a kid."

"Yes, Quinn, but that's the risk you take when you love. There's nothing in this world that can be loved that isn't mortal."

"Yes, but some things are more mortal than others, and I have a feeling this one's one of them."

"He's not a thing, mommy, he's a puppy."

"OK, a puppy, whatever. I don't want him in my house."

Daisy's eyes begin filling with tears and Santana pulls her wife aside."What do you want?"

"What?"

"I'll give you anything you want, if we keep the dog."

Quinn smiles easily. "Is that gonna come out of your inheritance, too? I'm not my daughters, Santana. I can't just be bought."

Santana sighs and Quinn brushes the hair falling to her face fondly. "I never knew you wanted a dog so badly."

"Not a dog. This dog."

Later, they let Daisy carry the dog home. Elliott takes one look at him and his face lights up.

"Cool! A dog! What are we gonna name him?"

Daisy makes a face at him. "He already has a name. His name is Nugget."

Quinn sighs and turns to her wife."Well, I guess we have a dog."

Santana smiles. "All real families do."

...................................

By the coming week, Elliott's interest in Nugget has diminished, but not Daisy's. She spends every minute of her free time with him, and Quinn realizes, not happily, that they are going to be inseparable. She had still hoped to find a way to get rid of him, but now it seems like she won't be able to, so she resigns herself and begins making room for him in their lives. She orders a doggy bed, some bowls, and tries to find a spot in the house where they will be the least conspicuous; she has always hated the look of pet things laying around. She's surprised to find this takes a whole afternoon of her undivided attention, and irritates her to no end, especially since she can hear Daisy playing with that mangy dog in the backyard.

The easy-assembly dog house she purchased is anything but, it turns out she's going to need pliers and a hammer, which Santana keeps in the garage. She goes there and finds nothing, and immediately suspects Jaeger, since he's the only one in the house besides Santana who would find use for such things. Leaving Daisy in the backyard, she heads to the boys' room, the silence in the house striking her as eerie; they must be asleep. She opens the door without knocking and finds them both on Elliott's bed, kneeling face to face and with their lips pressed to each other's. Elliott's arms are holding on to Jaeger awkwardly, and Quinn realizes that her son has grown significantly taller and larger than his brother. He seems nervous and new at this, and holds Jaeger with a tenderness that frightens Quinn, maybe because she recognizes it. Jaeger, on the other hand, seems completely comfortable with what he's doing, when Quinn steps forward and pushes him off him.

"What the hell do you guys think you're doing?"

Elliott looks terrified and Jaeger looks brazen, in the usual order of things. They pull apart, Elliott with considerably more effort than Jaeger, who just hops off the bed where Elliott lingers, still shaking in shock, whether from the kiss or being caught, she doesn't know.

"Elliott, what... how.. why would you-"

"He didn't," Jaeger says. "I was the one who kissed him. Before you start making up stories in your head."

Quinn turns to her son. "Elliott? Is it true?"

Elliott nods miserably, but will not have a repeat of last time. "Yes. But... I wanted him to."

"Elliott, don't be ridiculous, you're ten, you have no idea what you want-"

Jaeger interrupts. "That's the whole point. He said he didn't know if he liked girls, he thought he might like boys, so I offered to kiss him so he could see what it felt like."

Quinn turns to her son, open-mouthed, and he nods in confirmation.

"Elliott, this isn't just something you can be doing-"

Elliott's face is red, but determined. "You and Santana do it."

"Yes, Elliott, but we're grown women. And the fact that I'm... the fact that I'm..."

"A lesbian," Jaeger supplies.

"Yes, a lesbian, doesn't mean that you have to be."

"I know it doesn't mom, and you're not even a lesbian, because you were in love with Daddy, weren't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, then that doesn't even make you gay, it makes you bi-"

"Where are you getting this from? Who taught you this stuff?"

Jaeger cuts in. "I did."

"Well, you had no right-"

"He was asking me a bunch of questions because you never explained anything. What was I supposed to do, ignore him?"

Quinn throws up her hands in the air. "I don't want to hear anymore about this, you understand? And I don't want you guys near each other for at least two weeks-"

"But mom!"

"That's not fair."

"I decide what's fair and what isn't in this house. You should have thought about that before-"

"Jesus, it was just a kiss. You're acting like we were-"

"That's enough, Jaeger. I will not have you talking back to me. Your mother might allow you to do that, but I certainly won't. And you," she says, turning to look at Elliott, "I don't ever want to see or hear anything about you kissing-"

"Jaeger kisses girls all the time and no one ever says anything."

"That's because that's different."

"How?"

"Because you're too young to know if you really like boys, Elliott, and because people won't look at it right even if you do know."

Clearly, from the look on Elliott's face, he doesn't understand. Quinn hugs her son. "Baby, I was in my thirties when figured it out, so I don't think you need to be worrying about this until at least ten years from now. Things aren't always the way you think they're gonna be."

Jaeger snorts a little. "If you ask me, he's figured it out better than you have."

"Well, no one is asking you, Jaeger. You are to go into the living room and wait there until your mother gets home. I don't want the two of you together."

Jaeger rolls his eyes and leaves, slamming the door behind him. Quinn doesn't let go of Elliott until he starts sobbing into her chest, so bitterly she almost wants to sob with him.


	24. Chapter 24

When Santana gets home, Jaeger immediately jumps off the couch and towards her.

"Mom, it's not fair!"

Quinn's sitting on an adjacent loveseat, flicking through TV channels mindlessly, her lips pursed together into an expression that's never good.

Santana ruffles her son's hair. "What's not fair?"

"That I can't play with Elliott."

"Oh, no," Santana says good-naturedly. "What did you guys do this time?"

Quinn turns off the TV. "I caught them kissing, Santana."

Santana frowns, confused. "Kissing who?"

"Each other."

"What?"

"Yes, mom, but we explained why."

"Pray, enlighten me, Jaeger."

"Well, we did it because Elliott wanted to know if he liked boys or girls."

"Oh, and you kindly offered to help?"

"Yeah."

Santana shakes her head. "That's stupid, Jaeger. You don't even like boys... do you?"

"No. I don't think so." He turns pleading eyes on his mother. "Mom, please."

Santana sighs and sits down on the couch. "I have to talk to your mother, Jaeger, but it was a dumb thing to do and you know it. At best, you probably confused Elliott even more, and you embarrassed him in front of us."

Jaeger hangs his head, and Santana pats it. "Please go to your room."

"No!," Quinn exclaims. "Elliott's in there."

Santana looks at her weirdly. "Fine. Go into the studio, Jaeger, and wait for me there."

Jaeger leaves and Santana turns to look at her wife. She looks as if she were watching it happen again and again, struggling with it anew, each and every time.

"So, would it be stupid of me to say that I don't think Jaeger did anything wrong?"

"He was the one who kissed him, Santana."

"Yeah, and he explained why."

"He was sticking his tongue down his throat."

"Did Elliott seem like he was being forced?"

Quinn doesn't say anything.

"See? We'll just talk to them, both of them together, tell them it's not appropriate-"

"They know it's not, Santana, and they still did it. And they share a room."

"Quinn, come on, you can't be serious-"

"We can't trust them, they're gonna have to change rooms."

"Fine. But you know we can't use the studio anymore, so Elliott's gonna have to share with Daisy."

"He won't want to, you know he's had a hard time dealing with-"

"Fine, Jaeger can share with her, he won't mind."

"No, what if he tries to-"

"Jesus, Quinn, you're acting like he's some fucking child molester or something-"

"That's not what I'm saying, it's just that what he did isn't normal-"

"Fine, what do you wanna do then?"

"I was thinking... maybe Elliott can sleep with me in our bed and you can sleep in his?"

Santana feels a pang in her chest which she's ashamed to admit has nothing to do with Jaeger. But what about our marriage?, she wants to ask. What am I supposed to do if I can't sleep next to you? But instead, she says, "Yeah, because that's not sick at all."

"How dare you? He's my son."

"Yeah, and Jaeger's mine, and sometimes I think you forget that. Just because I didn't want to have children doesn't mean I don't love him, Quinn, or that I'm not gonna fight for him, because I'll fight anyone for him, even you."

"Then you understand how I feel about Elliott."

"I think Elliott is too attached to you, and he's definitely too old to be sleeping on the same bed as you. But he's your son, you do as you see fit. I'll share the boys room with Jaeger."

 

............................

 

She misses Santana, so terribly, but it's too late to say anything, and she wouldn't even if it wasn't. Santana is so much less affectionate than Finn, and it's makes Quinn want to hold on to everything and never share it, because she doesn't how it will be received. She's having trouble sleeping again, even though she's not precisely alone. Elliott, to her surprise, didn't mind much when he found out they were going to share a room. She wonders if he took her words to heart, or if maybe it's himself he's afraid of, or maybe he's glad they lifted the punishment and he can play with his brother again, if not sleep on the bed next to his.

It's ten p.m. and Elliott has no trouble falling asleep beside her. Ever since they moved to this house he's been fine, maybe because he shared a room with Jaeger, or maybe he's just outgrown his insomnia. Quinn is glad for him, that he won't have to deal with this for the rest of his life the way she did, ever since she was a toddler who couldn't fall asleep out of fear, fear of the world maybe, which was hard to face when you were awake but even worse when you weren't, because there you had no control.

The lights are off but the TV is on, low, on one of those Hispanic soap operas she remembers Santana watching sometimes. She's trying to figure out what they're saying, maybe this will help her fall asleep, when the phone rings shrilly. It's right next to her, so she picks up quickly, but not before shooting a concerned look Elliott's way, only he doesn't seem to be stirring at all.

"Hello?"

"Kitty's getting a divorce."

"This couldn't wait until morning, mamma?"

Judy ignores her. "People are saying it's your fault."

"Really? And what did you say to that?"

A fight breaks out on the soap opera on TV, volume rising.

"What is that noise? What are you watching?"

"Nothing," Quinn says quickly as she turns it off. She used to dread calls from her mother before, but now she rather enjoys them, in a detached, amused way. Maybe it's because the miles between them take the sting out of Judy's words. Plus, she's the only connection to her old life, to her childhood. Judy's phone calls make her melancholy for a life she never loved, but that was, after all, hers for many years.

"I said she had been on the brink of divorce for years, you just inspired her to finally go through with it."

"How are Ryder and the children holding up?"

Judy scoffs. "I don't know about the children, but Ryder is in the Bahamas with his new find. You know, Sugar?"

"No, mamma. I don't know anybody anymore."

There is a pause. "Do you ever miss your old life? I mean, I know you don't miss us, but, in general? Do you ever miss the south?"

Quinn sighs. "There are times in life for things, mamma, and for me the time for that has passed."

"Are you going to Finn's wedding?"

"I don't know."

"We are."

"He invited you?"

"Yes. He was here last week. Told me he went up to see you."

"Yeah."

"That was sweet of him."

"Yeah."

"Doesn't he look handsome?"

"He does."

"But?"

"But he's not my type anymore, mamma."

"Don't tell me you're turning into some dyke who checks out women wherever she goes."

This makes Quinn laugh. "Where did you learn about that?"

She can practically feel Judy shrugging. "The internet."

"I thought you didn't know how to use it."

"Willow's been teaching me."

"To look up stuff about lesbians?

"Among other things."

"Willow reminds me so much of Jaeger, it's incredible they're not related by blood."

"Who?"

"You know. Jaeger, my son."

"Your step-son. So, are you a dyke?"

"Sadly, no. Santana's the only woman I like."

"Do you at least look at other men?"

"No."

"God, Quinn. I'm never going to understand you."

"I know."

"How you could leave Finn and your life for-"

"We've been over this before."

"I know things with Finn weren't perfect-"

"They were actually pretty perfect. That was the problem."

"But that's what happens when you've been married for a while. First you start to get restless, then bored, then you start fighting, then you stop sleeping in the same bed-"

Quinn shifts uncomfortably at this and it's like Judy reads her silence.

"You already are, aren't you? See, I told you. It isn't any different because you're both women."

"I thought it would be."

"So you admit you made a mistake?"

"No, mamma. Nothing could have kept me apart from Santana."

"And here you thought it was all of us, trying to keep you apart. Well, it's going to be life and yourselves that keep you apart, now."

"I don't want that to happen."

"I know you don't. No one does, sweetheart."

.......................

 

She feels like she hardly sees Santana anymore. She's always at work, and Quinn's always at home, and now that they don't sleep in the same bed, it's like they're just two people who share a sink and a closet. Even so, times flies for Quinn, not during the day, when the hours seem long and tedious, but at a distance, and when she looks back, nearly a month has passed and she can't believe she's survived it, living like this, what feels like half a life. And she's managed to do it all without setting a foot out the house. She thinks Santana would be mortified if she knew, but somehow, another part of her, thinks Santana would have asked if she really cared at all.

One morning, when she's asleep and Elliott is in the shower, she feels the Jakeress sink with weight next to her. She blinks her eyes open and sees Santana, and for a minute she thinks things are back to the way they were, and there is no doubt that this woman belongs here, on her bed. A ray of hope encircles her heart, but not for long, because Santana is staring straight at the ceiling, lost in other thoughts.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"Today's the day."

"What day?"

"The day I have to pick up Jake."

Quinn is torn between being upset Santana didn't tell her this sooner, so she could fix up the studio and clean the house, which is a nasty mess, and feeling sorry for her wife, who, she realizes now, won't look Quinn in the eye so she won't see the fear there. She reaches across the bed and grabs her hand.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

Santana shuts her eyes. "Please."

......................................

It is the first time in weeks Quinn's been out of the house, and she feels anxious, more about that than she does about meeting Jake. Santana looks nervous too, her hands shake when she helps Quinn pull on the pale blue fitted sheet on the futon they got for Jake and placed in the studio.

The drive to the hospital is silent and new to Quinn, but old as time to Santana, who has driven across the country from many paths, just to be there as often, as frequently as she has. Maybe because of her brother, she feels at home there, and has even, once or twice, questioned her sanity, if maybe, she, too belongs there.

They only wait for a little bit before he comes out, wearing a University of Chicago t-shirt and jeans, and not scrubs or some sort of jail-looking outfit like Quinn thought he would be. He looks exactly like Santana, the male version but not as handsome, though Quinn would swear they were twins if she didn't know any better. There is something wandering lost in his eyes, and she doesn't like the way he puts a hand to her cheek when Santana introduces them. "Your eyes," he says. "They're pretty."

It's rude, people don't usually point it out. "Thank you."

"Now I understand why my sister's gotten into eating pussy. Is she any good at it?"

Quinn blushes so red she feels her face overheating, but Santana laughs and smacks her brother on the shoulder. "Of course I am."

Quinn purses her lips and speeds up her walk up to the car, leaving them behind.

"Your girl is a queen, sis."

Santana smiles. "I know."

.........................

 

Dinner quickly becomes an awkward affair, as it's obvious that they are grossly unprepared for Jake's stay. Quinn and Santana try to put together a meal in the kitchen, something Quinn doesn't think they've ever done before. Whatever patience she had with Santana in the morning has evaporated quickly, after spending the whole day with her and Jake. Quinn tosses the onions she's chopping into Santana's bowl a little too brusquely, and Santana's head immediately snaps up.

"Now what?"

Quinn just glares.

"Well, say something, it's obvious you're upset."

"Oh, so, I'm not supposed to be?"

"I don't know, maybe if you told me what it is that upset you so much, I'd be able to tell you."

"You. Talking about our sex life. With your brother."

"When did that happen?"

"When he asked if-"

"Quinn, it was only a question, that's what Jake is like, I explained it to you already-"

"That doesn't mean it's an appropriate topic of conversation-"

"Nothing about our relationship is ever an appropriate topic of conversation."

"Not with other people, it isn't."

"He's my brother."

"Yeah, your brother, not mine."

Santana sighs. "I wish you could learn to see him like that."

"Santana, that's never gonna happen."

"Why?"

"He's too... different."

"I get along with him fine."

"That's because you have to."

"No, Quinn. It's because I want to."

............................

 

Jake uses the girls' cooking time to get reacquainted with the house and his new room. He's been here only once before, during the only Christmas he spent with his grandparents before they became convinced of the hopelessness of his case. It's much smaller than he remembered, older, and with a lot of little hidden corners and crevices. Out of one of these comes a boy of about Jaeger's age, chubby and with his eyes glued to the floor. He startles when he sees him and stops dead on his tracks. "You're... who are you?"

Jake frowns at him. "You don't know who I am? Cause I know perfectly well who you are. You're Elliott."

Elliott squints at him. "I know I've seen you before, but-"

"Where have you seen me?"

"In that picture hanging above our chimney."

Jake, who knows exactly where the chimney is, runs to it and finds a picture of himself, his arms wrapped around Santana. He feels something tickle in his throat and hears a small cough. Next to him, Elliott is looking at her picture, too. "Were you her boyfriend?"

"What? No."

"Well, then who are you?"

"I'm your uncle."

"My uncle?"

"Yeah. Santana's brother?"

"I didn't know Santana had a brother."

Jake looks slightly crestfallen. "Really? She never talks about me?"

Elliott shoots him an odd look. "Santana never talks about anything."

"And Jaeger?"

"Me and Jaeger don't talk so much anymore."

"Why?"

Elliott looks up, and suddenly his little eyes seem fierce. "None of your business."

Jake laughs. "You're right. It isn't. Where were you headed?"

"To the dining room. It's time for dinner."

"May I join you?"

Elliott shrugs. "Sure."

.........................

 

It's not until Quinn sees Elliott making his way to the table with Jake that she realizes she didn't have time to explain to her children about him. You did have time, says a voice inside her head, what you didn't have were the words.

She gasps when she sees them, because it's too late now, Daisy is already staring at Jake with a clueless look on her face, and Jaeger is running straight into his arms.

"Jake!"

Jake picks him up, but puts him down just as quickly, a slightly uncomfortable look on his face. "Hey there, Jaeger."

Jaeger steps back, grinning wide. "Sorry, I always forget-"

"No worries. I'll get used to it. There just wasn't a lot of... hugging going on at the hospital."

"What hospital?"

Jake turns to Daisy. "And you, lovely lady, must be Daisy. I've heard so much about you."

Quinn suddenly feels unkind, it is obvious that Santana has spoken to Jake in great detail about their family, and Quinn couldn't even take a few seconds to explain to her children that their other mamma wasn't actually an only child, like they'd always figured she was.

Jake stretches his huge hand across the table and shakes Daisy's tiny one. She giggles a little. "It is very nice to meet you. I'm your uncle Jake."

Daisy is about to ask, Quinn shuts her eyes and prepares for it, but Elliott butts in. "He's Santana's brother."

Santana is looking at all their faces a little crossly, but Quinn hopes she hasn't figured out that up until this morning, her children had no clue who Jake was.

"I made you a welcome home drawing, Jake," Jaeger says. "It's in your room."

Elliott and Daisy turn to look at each other, and Santana immediately stiffens up. "Your mother did tell you, didn't she? That Jake is going to be living with us from now on?"

There are three sets of alert eyes at that table, as the adults look from one to the other intently, and Quinn's eyes suddenly meet Jake's and he looks away quickly.  
Daisy starts to talk, but Jake interrupts her loudly. "Of course she did. Elliott was showing me around earlier. He showed me that picture on the mantelpiece." He turns to his sister, a kind look in his eyes. "Thank you."

Santana smiles. "I didn't just put it there because you were coming, you know. It's been there. It's always been there, whatever house, whatever chimney, whatever wall."

It's the first time Daisy and Elliott have heard Santana string so many words together, and they look at her in awe. Jake laughs and so does Elliott, and Santana frowns at them.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just that Quinn's kids seems to be under the impression that you don't talk."

"I talk," Santana says with her mouth full. She turns to her wife. "Right I talk, Quinn?"

But even Quinn's laughing a little.


	25. Chapter 25

Quinn swallowed so many sleeping pills the night before that she thinks not even a train running past her room would wake her, but she's wrong. It's eleven in the morning, she usually gets up around one, and Jake's knocks are apparently louder than a moving train.

"Come in," she yells, forgetting the only person who could be home is Jake. He enters and she quickly realizes her state of undress. During the night, in the heat, she must have taken her pajama pants off. She covers herself with their eiderdown, but Jake seems unfazed. He's not even looking her in the eye when he talks, just somewhere around her shoulder.

"Uh... I was wondering... can we go grocery shopping?"

Quinn rubs her eyes. "What?"

"The supermarket. I... didn't bring anything from the hospital, and I need a toothbrush, and... stuff."

"Oh. OK, yeah. Supermarket's down the street, then take a left. Car's in the garage."

"Wow, you guys really didn't talk about this, huh?"

"Excuse me?"

"See, Quinn, the thing is... I'm not supposed to go out on my own."

"Oh. I see. Well, I can't really drive you there."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know how to drive."

Jake looks confused. "So why is there a car in the garage?"

"Santana bought it for me in hopes I'd learn. It's been sitting there for a while now. She'll probably give it to you, now."

He laughs humorlessly. "Well, it'll be sitting there for even longer, then."

"Why?"

"Because I've been in that hospital since I was eighteen."

"So?"

"So they don't really see the use of teaching crazy people how to drive."

"Oh. But you can take driver's ed now, can't you?"

He shrugs. "I could, but I can't be on my own anyway, so there isn't a point in me learning, is there?"

They look at each other and Quinn waits for him to leave, her pill-induced haze making her forget why he even came her in the first place.

"Uh... supermarket?"

"Oh, right. Well, like I said, down and left. It's walking distance."

"Uh, yeah, and like I said, I can't go alone."

"Oh, come on. No one's gonna know."

"I'm not really looking to violate the conditions of my release right now."

"Can't this wait until Santana gets home?"

"Actually, no, it can't."

"Why?"

"Because it just can't."

One thing Santana did warn her about, Jake getting stubborn, but she feels prickly, too, like a cactus.

"Jake, I can't go out right now."

"Why? Cause you're so busy?"he asks, looking around the room. Quinn takes a deep breath and counts to ten before answering.

"No. Because I'm sick."

"Sick?"

"I have a cold."

"We can get you some medicine, then."

"I'm not going, Jake. You can either wait for Santana, or-"

"You realize my sister has a job, right? That she can't just be driving me around?"

"And you realize it's incredibly rude of you to expect someone you barely know to be babying you-"

"Fine, fucking forget it," he yells and runs out the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Quinn sighs and falls back on the bed.  
........................................

After dinner, Santana helps Quinn do the dishes.

"How did you and Jake get along on your first day?"

"We didn't."

"What?"

"Jake seems to be under the impression I'm here to babysit him."

"What do you mean babysit?"

"I mean, like, take him places and stuff. Did you tell him that?"

"No, not specifically."

"Well, he says he can't go out alone."

"Why would he need to go out?"

"He wanted to go to the supermarket."

"Couldn't you have gone with him? It's, like, three blocks away."

"I have stuff to do, Santana."

"Like what?"

"Just stuff... see, that's what I mean. I can't be responsible for him. He's like a kid, and you're never around."

"He can take care of himself, Quinn, he's not an invalid."

"Really? Cause he seems to think that he is, and that I have to do things for him just because I'm here and you aren't."

"Quinn, he's been locked up half his life, obviously there are gonna be some readjustment issues-"

"I'm sure there are, Santana, what I'm wondering is why I'm the one that has to deal with them when I'm not even related to him."

"Because, like you said, you're here all the time, Quinn, and I'm not."

"So this whole time you've been aware of the fact that I was going to have to care for Jake and you never even said anything? You couldn't even ask me?"

"Why? So you could say no like you always do? Besides, I don't think it's that much to ask, considering I already keep this household afloat and drive the children to school so you won't have to lift a finger."

"You knew what you were getting into when we got married. I never in any moment pretended to be-"

"I know. I know."  
........................................

She has Elizabeth in her arms, a toddler. She's squirming, she wants go play on the swings outside, but Quinn won't let her. Elizabeth laughs and squeals as she tries to free herself from Quinn's grasp, her jet black hair swinging from side to side like needles on a pine. She's thin, her baby, but strong and determined, and Quinn feels her breaking free.

"Wait."

Elizabeth, eyes sparkling with freedom, turns to her, and Quinn glances outside."Do you really want to go?"

Her daughter just nods, and whispers "Yes, mamma," and kisses her on the lips, a kiss so sweet, it's unlike any Quinn remembers ever receiving in her life. She can't keep her grip on her any longer, and lets go.  
.....................................

She wakes up with a gasp, like she just came out from the bottom of a pool full of water. It's five o'clock, but she feels exhausted. Outside her bedroom door, she can hear the sound of life, moving , the sound of her children's footsteps running down the hall. Three, she reminds herself. Three children. Not four. Or four, if you count Willow, but the thing is, she isn't a child anymore. But she's still her child, so she counts. Four had always been her number, the number that was never to be. But then came Jaeger and he was four, and it confused Quinn all the time, because really, she guesses, it should have been five.

She opens her bedroom door and, barefoot, steps out into the world, hoping to leave less of a mark, make less of a sound, be more there than here by not any wearing shoes. She can hear Santana's voice, yelling from the studio.

"Take-out's in the fridge, Quinn."

She opens it and finds a platter of sushi, their usual, and can't help but feeling disappointed. She wants to eat something warm, something rich, something that will reassure her of her permanence in this world. When she's sure no one's looking, she reaches into the pantry and grabs a can of meatballs, which she stuffs into her mouth without bothering to heat up. She wipes her mouth and hides the can at the bottom of the trash can, then places two rolls of sushi onto a plate and goes to find her wife.

She finds her, unsurprisingly, in the studio, where she spends most of her time nowadays. She's in front of the computer, Jake next to her, and they're looking through a series of pictures and laughing. Quinn waits in the threshold, and when Santana gets a look at her, she waves her over, but Quinn feels, oddly enough, like a stranger in her own house, like she's interrupting something. Santana smiles at her. "Come on, hon."

"But... there's no room, Santana," she says, motioning to their two chairs.

"Sit on Santana's lap," Jake says, without turning, even once, to look at her.

Santana nods. "Yeah. Good idea."

It might be the first time she's ever sat on Santana's lap. Her legs are thin and Quinn feels self-conscious and weighty, and honestly not all that comfortable. She glances at the computer screen and sees a picture of her own face grinning back at her, as if telling her to lighten up.

"I'm showing Jake the pictures from the wedding, he never got to see them."

Neither did I, realizes Quinn with a start. One of Santana's coworkers had taken them and emailed them to her later, but Quinn had never gotten around to looking at them.

"I look happy," she says, surprised.

"Of course you do, it's was your wedding day," says Santana.

"You look skinnier," Jake comments.

"She does not," says Santana indignantly, even though she knows it's true, her wife is heavy on her legs.

"Is that why you haven't printed them out?"

"What?"

"Nothing, I was just thinking maybe Quinn doesn't like looking at them because she's gained weight and that's why you don't have a wedding album or any of that bullshit around the house."

Quinn turns to her brother-in-law. "No, Jake, actually, I can't say I don't like looking at them, because this is the first time I've ever seen them."

"It is?, " Santana asks, startled.

"Yeah. You never showed them to me."

"You never asked. And besides, Jake, no one has wedding albums anymore."

"Quinn does."

"What are you talking about?"

He points to one of the many boxes in the studio, full of stuff from the move that, a year later, Quinn still hasn't found the energy to unpack. "There's, like, three wedding albums in there from Quinn's first marriage."

"Those were gifts," is Quinn's immediate response, and a lie. She remembers painstakingly, excitedly putting every single one of those together, and proudly displaying them in her house, showing them to guests. "And why were you looking through those boxes?"

Jake shrugs. "This is my room, it's fair game. Why do you have those hidden, anyway? Are you afraid Santana will see them?"

"I've seen them before, Jake."

"But not here, in your own house, have you?"

"No. I didn't realize you'd brought them, Quinn."

"Santana, I-"

"It's OK, I understand. They're your own beautiful memories. I would never tell you not to keep them. And you can take them out if you want to."

Quinn shakes her head. Maybe everything in those boxes is still there because she's afraid of it. She will have to take them out of the studio as soon as she has a moment to herself again, before Jake can look through everything she won't, though something tells her he already has.

...........................................

The first morning is the only she is able to forget about Jake being in the house. The rest, she feels oddly uncomfortable, like she's staying in a hotel or renting out a room or maybe living in a house with a ghost, thin and pale, that sometimes speaks too much and others, not at all.

He's an early riser like Santana, sometimes goes out running with her, and when he comes back, proceeds to bang every pot and pan in the kitchen to make himself some steak. They hardly ate meat at the hospital and now it's like he can't get enough of it. He eats it almost rare and without any kind of previous preparation, just grills it on the stove, because Quinn figures it's the only thing he knows how to do. If his banging doesn't wake Quinn up, the smell of steak certainly does, and it makes her nauseous, and a little sad.

She always thought she didn't like being alone, that she did it because she had to, but as soon as Jake moves in she realizes that she resents no longer being able to do what she wants. She feels observed, scrutinized, can no longer watch TV in the living room at her joy and leisure, but she can't lock herself up in her room either, because Jake will wonder what she does in there all day and surely mention it to Santana. It's over, every moment and notion of privacy, the being able to do whatever she wanted whenever she wanted, and she feels unreasonably angry because of it, even though she knows she's lucky it lasted as long as it did.

As a consequence, she finds herself cleaning around the house more and more, because it's the only thing she can do out in the open. There is also more to clean, she's annoyed to find out, because Jake has obviously had someone to pick up after him his whole life and has no idea what it entails; he's worse than any of the children. She doesn't ask him to the first couple of times, but later, after she's tired of picking up clothes, dishes and tissues, she ends up asking him to pick up after himself, to which he responds with a careless, "Oh, yeah, sure," only to do it again the next day, which makes Quinn think he must be doing it on purpose.

It only takes him a couple of days to find her stash of canned and frozen goods, even though they never coincide at meal times. It all starts when, one day, after Santana takes him shopping, he comes back with a mountain of candy and sugary cereal and chips and pretty much everything he wasn't allowed to eat at the hospital. Santana, who would normally never allow that stuff inside her home, seems to find it hilarious. Quinn's bothered by the extra trash it creates around the house, but doesn't mind it too much either, until she catches Daisy hiding behind a door splitting a chocolate bar in half, one for herself, the other for Nugget. She snatches the wrapper away from her daughter and indignantly carries it into the bathroom, where Santana is showering.

"Santana!"

She flings the door open only to find Jake sitting on the closed toilet, chatting away with his sister.

"Oh, hi, Quinn."

Quinn ignores him, and Santana peeks out of the shower and stares at the candy wrapper in her hand.

"What is that?"

"A candy wrapper, obviously."

"I know it's a candy wrapper, but what are you doing with it? Where did you get it?"  
Quinn scoffs. "Cause it's so hard to find them laying around every corner of the house." She takes a breath. "I just took it away from Daisy, Santana. She was eating a chocolate bar. Even Nugget got some."

Jake laughs and Santana bites back a giggle. "It's just one, Quinn. She knows better than that, I'm sure it won't happen again."

"It will if they keep being offered to her."

Jake frowns. "Are you trying to say I gave that to her?"

"No, but-"

He smiles easily. "Well, I did."

This time, Santana can't hold back laughter; a big, happy whoop from deep in her stomach. Even as a kid, no one ever made her laugh as much as Jake. No one ever made her laugh at all, Quinn thinks with anger.

"I thought we agreed that our children were going to be raised in a junk-free home-"

"Jesus, Quinn, lighten up. I feel like I'm talking to Sam."

"Besides, it's not like this is a junk-free home anyway," Jake says.

"It was before you started bringing your shit in."

But Jake shakes his head. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Santana exits the shower and pulls on her navy-blue bathrobe. It has the Lopez coat of arms stitched in hot pink over one of the pockets. The sight of the emblem causes more reaction in Jake than the fact that his sister was just naked in front of him, which seems to cause no discomfort to anyone but Quinn. Jake wrinkles his nose at the embroidery.

"Let me guess," he says, looking at Quinn with a bored expression. "You gave her that."

Santana grins. "Christmas present."

"Of course. You southerners, always obsessed with family crests. That worthless piece of shit. Anyway... what was I saying?"

"You were asking if I was fucking kidding you."

"Oh. Right. Because it's not like there's like a dozen cans of Chef Boyardi's ravioli inside your pantry."

Santana laughs. "No there isn't, Jake. No one here eats that stuff."

Jake glances at Quinn. "I guess that's where the weight gain came in."

Santana turns to Quinn too, a little uncertain. "Hon?"

"I thought you said I wasn't fat, Santana."

"Nobody's saying you are. I didn't even-"

"You don't need to with the way you're looking at me."

"She isn't even-"

Quinn throws her hands up in the air. "Look, you know what Santana? Go look in that fucking pantry if you want to, divorce me because I'm fat if you want to, do whatever the fuck you want, I don't give a shit."

She races out the bathroom and slams the door behind her. Jake and Santana exchange glances and she sighs.

"Jake, lay off the candy for a while, please?"

"Do I have to?"

"At least keep it in your room or something. Don't let her see it."

"I'm never going to understand why you bother so much with that girl. She's a spoiled little-"

"Jake. Please."

"Fine."

She turns to her brother and smiles, ruffling his hair. "And for the record, I do hope that, one day, you'll understand."

.........................................

 

She throws out all the Chef Boyardi's the next morning. She knows Santana hasn't seen them, knew well she wouldn't even look for them the moment Quinn brought it up, because it was like a dare, a dare to break her trust.

She's on the phone, trying to order groceries, because now she has nothing to eat, when Jake comes in the kitchen.  
"Who are you talking to?"  
She puts a finger to her lips as she continues reading off her list. "Three pounds of spinach, one pineapple-"

"Are you seriously ordering your groceries over the phone?"

Quinn ignores him and continues reading.

"Who the hell does that? Does Santana know?"

Quinn pushes the speaker away from her mouth. "Jake, please."

"No, I'm serious, like, please tell me."

"I will, as soon as I hang up." She speaks into the receiver. "A box of quinoa-"

Jake snatches the list away from her. "No Chef Boyardi?"

"Jake, I need my list, can I have it back please?"

But Jake is reading it out loud now, ignoring her. "Two boxes of amaranth... I don't even know what half of the shit on here is-"

"Jake, come on!"

The lady on the phone is impatiently clicking her tongue over Jake's shouting, and Quinn is forced to hang up and cancel her order. She slams the phone into the counter and sits on one of the kitchen stools, burying her arms in her head. Jake looks at her oddly. "Why d'you hang up?"

"Why do you think?"

He shrugs carelessly. "Beats me. But it's fine. This means we can now go out to the real supermarket and get our food."

"Jake, I don't-"

"I need to go out. I've been cooped up in this house for days. If I don't go out, I'll break something."

Quinn sighs. "Fine. Get your shit. We're going."


	26. Chapter 26

She knew she wasn't going to get out of eventually having Jake to the store. He is giddy with excitement, which Quinn supposes must stem from the fact that he was locked up for so long, before. She, on the other hand, liked her self-imposed, voluntary house arrest, and wonders why anyone would ever feel the need to go out.

The sun too bright, the air too tight, and her feet weird in her shoes after going barefoot for so long. If Jake hasn't gone out in days, she's certainly been in for much longer. She wonders who's in better shape to face the outside world and concludes neither of them; they're both probably as much of a liability. She feels dizzy and trembling and feverish, and hopes Jake won't notice, since he's looking around acting like a puppy who just got taken out for a walk. He holds on to her hand when they cross the street and she jumps a little, causing him to let go abruptly. It was almost nice, she thinks, steadying, except that Jake could never be a stead to anyone, much less her.

The store is unusually crowded, and she remembers today is the day of their monthly wine sale. It's off-putting, as much to Jake as it is to her, and she feels things starting off on the wrong foot, already. It doesn't help that Jake towers over the crowd, he can't get by as easily and Quinn isn't inclined to leave him alone. They wander around aimlessly for a little while, not sure what they're doing here exactly, and then Jake takes Quinn's crumpled shopping list out of his pocket and hands it to her.

"Oh. Right."

He follows like a shadow as she moves along, trying to pass unnoticed among the crowd, trying to pretend they don't bother her. She is too concerned about her own feelings of asphyxiation to worry about Jake, but when she accidentally turns back to look at him, she notices he looks slightly green.

"Didn't you have your own shopping list, Jake?"

"Oh, yeah," he says, and looks around. He's standing next to a pile of apples; he grabs a bunch and tosses them in the cart. A store attendant smiles at him."Need a bag?"

Jake turns around and speaks in an unnaturally high voice to the ceiling. "No."

The lady looks off-put, and Quinn wants to apologize, but then thinks better of it and turns to Jake.

"Anything else?"

"What?" he asks, disoriented.

"What else are you getting?"

Jake glances at the apples in the cart. "That's it."

"That's all you want? We came here for this?"

Jake looks at her and says nothing. Quinn sighs and grabs a few more items off her grocery list before finally giving up and getting in line at the register. She hears a loud, familiar whoop coming from the other side of the store, looks behind her, and finds Jake gone.

Her heart jumps a little and she looks around frantically. From a nearby aisle, she can see a ball flying across the air, and, leaving her shopping cart in line, she rushes toward it, only to find Jake on a skateboard, rolling across the aisle at top speed while spinning a basketball on one finger.

Quinn has a flashback of one of those pictures of him laying around somewhere, wearing a basketball jersey. He seems to be slightly cheerier, so she doesn't say anything, spins on her heel and runs back to the register, because the sooner they're out of here, the better.

Just as she's paying, she hears the familiar screams across the store and wonders if she can pretend not to. Jake is being escorted outside by a couple of security guards, who are struggling because he's so much taller than them. The manager is by Jake's side, saying something about damage to private property, and when he threatens to call the police, Jake starts laughing hysterically.

"I can pay for every single fucking thing in this store twice over, you know that?"

Sense finally lands on Quinn's head and she manages to drag Jake out of the store, promising to pay everything.

No one says anything on the way home, even though they're both visibly agitated, and finally, Quinn bursts.

"You know I can never set foot in that store again, right? That it's back to ordering on the phone?"  
Jake doesn't say anything, but instead runs all the way home, and it's in trying to keep up with him that Quinn realizes how out of shape she is. She gets home about fifteen minutes later.

.................................

Santana takes one look at Quinn's pursed lips and knows. "What happened?"

"He threw a fit at the store."

"Did he hurt anyone?"

"No."

Santana sighs with relief, and it annoys Quinn to the core.

"We're, like, hundreds of dollars in debt."

"I'll charge it to the inheritance card."

"I'm never going to be able to show my face in there again."

"You're overreacting. You should have just told them he was sick. People usually understand that."

"He can't go through life expecting strangers to excuse his actions because they feel sorry-"

"It's not about feeling sorry for him, it's about empathy. It's about understanding he's different."

"I know, but-"

"I've met complete strangers who are more understanding than you are."

..................................

Quinn's taken to watching some of those dancing reality shows a couple of afternoons a week, while Daisy's at ballet and the boys at tutoring. The tutor has canceled today, however, and that means she's stuck with them. She lets them go play outside and turns on the living room TV so she can keep an eye on them from the window.

During commercial break, she goes to the kitchen to get some snacks and finds Jake there, grilling his usual steak. She wrinkles her nose in distaste, at the smell and at the fact that the only snack she can find is a bag of baby carrots. This new diet never fails to put her in a bad mood, which is only worsened when she realizes it's started to rain outside. She opens the front door and yells at the boys to come in. They do, groaning.

"Mom, it's not raining that hard."

Quinn keeps her eyes glued to the screen. "Hard enough. Last thing I need is you getting sick."

"I'm not gonna get sick-"

"You're always getting sick, Elliott."

"Not anymore mom, haven't you noticed?"

"You were here with me for weeks not too long ago, how can you say-"

"I had a broken arm, that's not being sick."

"Elliott, I really don't have time for this argument right now," Quinn says, turning up the volume to the TV. "Can you just please find something quiet to do inside?"

Elliott sighs, but nods his head. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good."

They're out of her sight and quiet for a good ten minutes, until commercial break comes on again and she hears noise in the foyer, and, rolling her eyes, goes to check on them. She finds them on the floor, wrestling. Elliott's got Jaeger pinned to the ground and a triumphant smile on his face, and his brother looks pleasantly shocked. There are muddy foot prints all around them, and bits of dirt even on their clothes and faces.

"What is going on?"

Elliott jumps off Jaeger quickly, thinking that's what Quinn's upset about, but notices her staring at the mud on the floor instead.

"I'm sorry mom, we didn't mean-"

"Elliott, what in the world has gotten into you?"

He looks uncomfortable. "What do you mean?"

"Since when do you act like this? You used to hate wrestling with your daddy, and you hated getting your hands dirty and now look at you. I don't even recognize you."

"Mom, I-"

"I don't want to hear it, Elliott. I want this floor scrubbed before your mother comes home. Oh, and while you're at it, you can scrub the kitchen floor too, I bet Jake's made a mess in there with his steak."

"But mom, I-"

Jaeger shakes his head at him to be quiet. "Don't worry. I'll help you."

"No, you won't," Quinn says, glancing back at the living room. "I told Elliott to go find something quiet to do and he didn't, so it's on him."

"Are you just punishing him because he's making you miss your show?"

"Go to your room, Jaeger."

"Elliott's never scrubbed a floor in his life, how is he supposed to-"

"He'll figure it out. It's not rocket science. I have to do it all the time, why shouldn't he?"

Jake's quiet, calm voice comes out of nowhere. "Because he's a child."

Quinn throws her hands up in the air. "You gotta be kidding me." Rolling her eyes, she heads back to the living room, not really caring what happens anymore.

Jake brings a sponge and a small bucket and sits down on the floor next to Elliott. "Jaeger, go to your room."

He does, but stops in the living room. Quinn's eyes are fixed on the screen, and Jaeger's eyes are fixed on her.

"You could do that, you know."

"What?"

"Dance on that show. You're good enough."

"Was good enough. But thank you. That's a very nice thing to say."

"It's not a compliment."

"What is it then?"

"It's my way of saying that maybe if you were doing instead of watching you'd be less unhappy and less likely to take it out on your son."

Quinn sighs. "Really, Jaeger, I'm not asking for your opinion. God, everyone and their opinions in this house are driving me crazy."

"If by that you're talking about Jake, you do realize he's sick, right?"

"Can I watch my show now? You're making me miss the ending."

Jaeger shrugs. "Suit yourself."

...........................................

When Santana comes home from work that evening, she finds the house silent, and her wife asleep on the couch, the TV on silent. She lays down next to her, still in her lab coat, and Quinn, asleep, wraps her arms around her.

Santana knows it's not ideal, not the arrangement she dreamed about all her life, but somewhere in her subconscious, this Quinn is holding on to her like she never wants to let her go, and Santana doesn't want her to. They fall asleep tangled in each other, relief filling their limbs like it's unfamiliar, but welcome.

...........................................

Quinn hears the wheels rolling and thinks it must be a nightmare, obviously inspired by the events of the week before. She rolls over on her side, to face her wife.

"Santana?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you hear that noise?"

"No."

"There's a noise coming from the studio."

"You mean Jake's bedroom?"

Quinn ignores her and sets out down the hall. It's incredible Santana's not more concerned with this, given how Jake is. The door is slightly ajar and Quinn peeks inside, but he's not there anymore, and neither is the noise. She can, however, hear it still. Determined to find the source, she goes out into their backyard, where she can see, with horror, her grandmother's antique garden bench propped up diagonally against a wall and Jake on a skateboard, trying to bounce off it.

She must look ridiculous, standing outside in this weather in Santana's flannel pajamas, and it is this thought alone that sends her back inside. .

"Really, Santana?"

Her wife, who had gone back to sleep, sits up like she's been shot. "What? What is it? What's wrong?"

"A skateboard?"

Santana looks around the room, realizes where she is, and sighs. "I wanted to give him something to do."

"And this was what you thought of?"

"He picked it out."

"Oh, and you just went right along with it? He's not sixteen, he's a grown man, how could you-"

"He didn't have a childhood, Quinn."

Quinn is quiet, maybe because she knows the feeling.

"I'm trying to give him one."

"None of us had a childhood, Santana."

"What else can I do? He can't get a job, he can hardly get out of here... I had to find something to keep him busy."

"That's not your responsibility. He's not Jaeger. You pay more attention to him than you do to your own son."

"He was here before Jaeger was, and I'm not going to apologize for it."

"Here where?"

"Here in my life. On this planet. Besides, Jaeger has had everything he ever wanted, and he's got his uncle to thank for that. That's the reason I've put so much care into raising him. I wanted to give him everything Jake didn't have."

She knows the words are true as soon as they come out of her mouth, though she'd never consciously thought about it before. Quinn just looks at her, and a flicker of pity crosses her face, but briefly, so briefly, that Santana thinks she might have imagined it.

......................................

"Santana, why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm sorry, I forgot."

It's seven a.m. and they're all gathered in the kitchen, staring at each other and trying to figure out what they can do to solve this problem, this early, and yet too late.

Elliott walks in, yawning, the last one up as usual, and does a double take when he sees his mother, up and awake.

"What's wrong?" he asks, immediately alarmed.

"Mom forgot to tell Quinn that Daisy had a bake sale today at school and now she doesn't have anything to take."

"She could miss class," Jake suggests.

"Everyone knows kids who miss bake sales are the ones whose mothers were too lazy to bake anything and I will not have people thinking that about my child," says Quinn, shaking her head. "Santana, can't you just take her to the store and buy something and pretend we made it?"

"That's cheating, mommy."

"Well, we're just wasting time sitting here and no one is coming up with anything."

"Time in which you could be whipping up something," Jake says pointedly.

"Really? Like what, Jake? Please mention something that I can bake in the fifteen minutes Daisy has to get to school."

Jake opens his mouth to say something, but Santana interrupts him with a sigh. "Look, you know what? The point of these fucking bake sales is to make money, right? So I'll just say our cookies burned or something and offer to give them whatever money it is they would have raised by selling them."

No one seems comforted by this answer, least of all Daisy, but they all agree it makes sense and rush out the door.

Quinn sighs as they go, not even having time to say bye to anyone and already feeling the beginnings of a migraine throbbing at her temples. Jake stares at her. "What's wrong?"

"This whole thing is giving me a headache."

"Must be because you had to get up about three hours earlier than you usually do."

"I didn't have to, Jake. You woke me up."

I thought you'd want to know about what was going on."

"What for? There was nothing I could do at this point. If Santana had told me yesterday-"

"She didn't do it on purpose, she already told you she forgot."

"I know."

"She's stressed out, she has a lot to do."

"I know that, too."

"Maybe she wouldn't be so stressed if she didn't have to work so much."

Quinn scoffs. "Are you kidding me? She loves going to work."

"Maybe she wouldn't have to work so hard to sustain this family if you got a job."

"You're acting like I'm forcing her to work. She knew perfectly well when she married me that I was incapable of holding a job-"

"Why, are you physically impaired?"

"No, Jake. I just have no education and no experience."

"And you never will, if you don't try. Besides, didn't you teach? So you're good for something, at least."

"I stopped so I could raise the children."

"Which you're not dong a very good job of. Obviously experience doesn't help there."

"Shut up, Jake."

"You're way in over your head. You shouldn't have had so many children. I can't believe you wanted more."

Did Santana tell him? Quinn wonders furiously.

But after staring at him for a couple of seconds, she realizes that, no, he doesn't know. If he did, he would have brought it up by now.

"My sister would never have a child with you."

Quinn feels it like a stab. I wasn't asking her to. Even though she'd thought about it, even though it had crossed her mind so many times, in the first few months after they got married. She just never had the courage to ask, because she was afraid Santana would think exactly that.

......................................

Santana comes home to find Quinn sitting on one of their kitchen stools, wearing actual makeup and her hair down and not in a ponytail for the first time in ages. She looks at her oddly but doesn't say anything; she's learning, as time passes, that sometimes with her wife, it's better to just not ask. Instead, she just sits on the stool next to hers.

"I'm working late today."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Why would I be kidding?"

"Today is Jaeger's baseball game."

Santana slaps a hand to her forehead. "Shit. I forgot."

And she did, truly. She feels a twinge of remorse. "Should I feel bad, that I'm forgetting all this stuff that has to do with the kids lately?"

"No. I forget stuff that has to do with them all the time."

"That doesn't mean it's OK, Quinn."

"No, it just means we're human."

"What's up with this more relaxed approach you're taking to parenting lately?"

"Nothing, I just figure... they're gonna hate me anyway, so why does it matter?"

"Quinn, they're not gonna hate you. You're just saying that because of Willow, and she doesn't even hate you. At least not anymore."

"So you're admitting she did, at one point."

"It'd be stupid to deny it, you'd know I was lying."

"True."

"But she likes you now, I think."

"I don't think it's that she likes me, she probably just feels sorry for me."

"That's good. It means she's beginning to understand your life wasn't always easy, or your choice."

"So I'm not her hateful mother, I'm just another fucked-up human being."

"Exactly."

They grin at each other.

"Why do fucked-up human beings have children?" Quinn asks.

"Because they're mistakes. In my case."

"Or because we can't help ourselves. In mine."

"None are good enough reasons, if you ask me."

"Is there ever a good enough reason?"

Santana shrugs. "I'm sure there are people who think they have good reasons. But do I personally think so? No. Not really."

Jaeger, Daisy and Elliott come into the room and stare at them. It's so weird, to just see them there, having a conversation and doing nothing else, and Santana feels a sudden urge to explain to their children that this is how she met their mother, that this is how they fell in love.

Jaeger taps his bat against the kitchen floor. "So, are you guys ready to go?"

Santana gets up from her stool. "Jaeger, I'm really sorry about this, but I have to work late today."

Jaeger blinks a couple times, trying to figure out why this is a big deal. "It's OK, mom."

"No it's not, Jaeger, I feel terrible-"

"You've never missed a game in my life. You've taken me to every performance, every event, every meeting. I'm not gonna hold it against you that you can't take me once. It's probably a good thing. It'll make me more normal."

Santana's eyes fill with tears, but she holds them.

"It'll be fine, mom. I won't miss much. It's only the first game."

They make their way back to the room, Daisy and Elliott more disappointed than Jaeger, but the drag of his bat against the floor giving him away. Santana shuts her eyes for a minute, trying to solve this problem logically, wishing equations and formulas could help her the way they do at work, when it dawns on her.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"You can take them. I'll drive you."

"I can't take all three kids with me."

"Sure you can."

"It's too much, Santana. I won't be able to handle them."

"Fine. Then Jake can come with you."

"No."

"Why not?"

"You don't know how difficult it is to go out with him, Santana."

"And why is that?"'

"He's always speaking his mind."

"Maybe you could learn a thing or two from him."

.................................

As always, thanks for reading.


	27. Chapter 27

"You idiot!," Jake yells at the tops of his lungs, at some kid who's just struck out, causing a couple of parents to stare at him. They're on the bleachers, Jake, Daisy, Elliott and Quinn. Jaeger is out there on the field, the star as usual. It makes Quinn think about Sam, and how he never was, and how he'd be so proud to see his son.

"Jesus, these kids suck," Jake mutters under his breath, because even with Jaeger, the team is still losing.

"Yeah, they do," whispers Elliott, looking equally annoyed at the fact that somebody is stealing from his brother's shine.

"Elliott," Quinn warns. "That's not nice."

Not only is it not nice, but she thinks someone like Elliott, who is awful at practically any sport he tries, would have the sympathy, and the smarts, to not judge anybody that lacks the same basic motor skills he does.

"Good one, Jaeger, good one!" yells Jake as he claps.

They watch Jaeger get to the base and wave, grinning widely. It's not the first of his games Quinn has ever been to, but it's the first in a while, and today, he seems to be in fine form, not affected at all by Santana's absence, and, if anything, uplifted by his uncle's presence.

Jake, too, is elated to be here. He keeps running commentary going under his breath, directed specifically at Elliott, who knows nothing about the game. Jake explains with concentrated gestures and hand signals, never taking his eyes off his nephew.

"Athletic talent runs in the family, you know," he tells Elliott.

"Yeah. Duh. His dad's a professional football player." But then Elliott seems to think better of it. "But I guess mine is too, and I suck at sports."

"Oh, I wasn't talking about that asshole. Talent's the last thing he's got. He just got lucky Santana supported him through his mediocre career. No, if he has any talent, he got it from our side of the family."

Elliott shrugs doubtfully. "I guess. I mean, Santana runs fast."

Jake glares at Elliott a little. "I was a champion basketball player, in my time," he says, like Elliott ought to have known.

"Really?," Elliott asks with such interest, whether sincere or put on, that Jake is immediately appeased.

"Yeah. When I was in high school. I was so good, I was almost drafted. But then..."

"Then what?"

Quinn, who hasn't missed a word of this conversation, cuts in. "Elliott, look, Jaeger's about to make it around again!"

And he does, but, sadly, all of Jaeger's efforts to rescue the team seem to be in vain, because he's the only kid who's even managed to make it past second base, as evidenced by the next boy in line.

"Jesus, kid, you have no fucking business being on the team if you can't run!", Jake yells, getting up from his seat.

"Excuse me, man, that's my son you're talking about."

It's a large, booming voice and Quinn's scared to even turn around just by looking at Daisy's terrified face, who obviously already has.

"Well, he's not very good, is he?"

"This is a little league game, not fucking major league baseball."

"And it never will be, unless-"

"Look, man, either you shut your mouth, or I'll shut it for you."

Quinn feels Daisy's fingers on her wrist. "Mommy, I have to go pee," she says, on the verge of tears.

Quinn interrupts the two men, whose verbal argument only seems to be escalating.

"Excuse me, Jake, can you take Daisy to the restroom?"

Jake narrows his eyes at her, but then nods calmly. "Sure." He grabs Daisy by the hand and leads her down the bleachers, and Quinn pushes Elliott to go after them.

"Take Elliott too, please."

It isn't until she's sure she's alone that she turns to look at the man behind her.

"Your husband-"

"He's not my hus-"

"Whatever he is of yours, he's a jackass. This is a kid's game, there is no need to be making comments like that."

Quinn decides to take Santana's advice for once in her life. "I'm so sorry, see, he's sick, he doesn't know-"

"Then don't bring him to the fucking games!"

Quinn quickly grabs their stuff and heads to the restroom to wait for everyone. Jake is already outside.

"How could you get us into this situation?"

"What are you talking about?"

"It's one thing if you do it when I'm alone with you, Jake, and another completely different to do it in front of my children. They were scared shitless, couldn't you tell?"

"Scared of what?"

"That man was about to beat you up."

"He was, like, a foot shorter than me. I could have taken him easily. I didn't need you to intervene."

"You wanted me to just let you get into a fight in the middle of a little league game?"

"Who said anything about fighting? You're overreacting."

"Jake, you insulted his son."

"It's not my fault his son couldn't play for shit."

"Do you always have to do that?"

"What?"

"Say stuff like that."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

.............................................

 

"Of course he doesn't know what you're talking about, Quinn. He's sick."

"Sometimes I think he's just pretending."

"You're being a selfish brat."

"I didn't sign up to take care of four children."

"I thought you wanted a fourth."

She can't believe she's said it, can't believe she even thought it, but there it is, out there, heavy like lead.

Quinn can't even think of a reply, instead she just stares at Santana, who feels like she can see her heart through her eyes. She immediately rushes to her and tries to wrap her arms around her.

"Quinn, honey, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Yes, you did. You meant it, Santana."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I-"

"You'll say anything to defend Jake. To defend the undefendable, Santana. And I'm just sitting here, waiting to see how low you're willing to sink."

"Quinn, I just wish you could be more understanding-"

"I've tried to be understanding, Santana. I've tried to be okay with you completely changing my life without even asking me, but-"

"It's his house, too, Quinn. His house, his things, his-"

"His sister, his nephew, his family. Not mine, apparently."

"I feel like you're asking me to choose between the two of you, Quinn. How can you expect me to do that?"

"Because it's what people promise to do when they get married. Leave their old family behind, to form a new one."

"He's my flesh and blood, Quinn. I can no more leave him behind than I can leave an arm or a leg-"

"Then don't."

"What?"

"I'm not going to ask you to lose an arm or a leg, Santana. However much of a bitch you think I may be."

"I never said that."

"No. You've said all you needed to say."

"And I already apologized. What else do you want me to do?"

"I wanted for you to have never said it at all."  
.............................................

 

Elizabeth is on the floor, playing with Jaeger. They are building a tower with different colored blocks, and every time it collapses on top of Jaeger, Elizabeth squeals in delight.

Quinn's afraid that the tower, the higher it goes, will fall on her daughter, but every time it seems like it's about to, Jaeger deflects it toward himself.

He stands up, building the tower so high it's almost as tall as him, and Elizabeth, still on the floor, looks up at the tower and up at him, her eyes full of awe.

................................................

Quinn sits up, mouth full of vomit, and runs to the toilet, where she heaves all the contents of her stomach. She glances at Elliott to make sure he's still asleep, and, for the second time in her life, packs all her belongings into a black trash bag and goes.

............................................

Santana still has both limbs, but is missing her heart. What a way, Quinn found, to take revenge when she promised she wouldn't. She should have known.

"Where is my mom?" Daisy demands by the afternoon, when it's impossible to keep Quinn's absence from them any longer.

"She left in the middle of the night," explains Elliott, eyes fixed on Santana, expecting an explanation.  
"Yeah, uh, your grandmother's sick. She called yesterday very late, and your mother left to go stay with her," says Santana, remembering when, such a long time ago, this had been Quinn's excuse to go be with Santana, and now it's her excuse for going away.

"Didn't hear the phone ring," Jaeger says noncommittally, and Santana half-expects Jake to follow with some smart-aleck comment, but he's been watching his sister all afternoon and knows this is serious.

"When is she coming back?"

"As soon as your grandma gets better."

"Can we talk to her?"

"She left her cellphone behind." At least that's the truth.

"Well, can we call her at grandma's?"

"Your grandma's not feeling well. I don't think that would be appropriate."

Jaeger looks up at Santana from his dinner plate. "You're even starting to sound like her."

"What?"

"Quinn always says that. 'It wouldn't be appropriate.'"

........................................

When she was with Sam, Santana felt like she knew what it was like, to be both mother and father, and it came easily and naturally, but with three kids, a job, and limited funds, she finds parenthood is not at all what she thought.

At first she had thought Jake would be of help, but he really is more like a fourth kid, like Quinn said. After a while, Santana begins to hold it against him, believing, like his wife used to say, that it's not that he can't help, it's that he won't.

"So, where is Quinn, really?" he asks one night, while Santana is arranging the Chinese takeout she ordered into plates so it won't look so uninviting.

"She's been gone for three days and all of sudden you care?"

"I'm not saying I care, I'm just wondering why she left."

"Because we had a huge argument, Jake, and I said something I shouldn't have said."

"Don't tell me. You argued about me."

"Yeah, what else?"

"Don't tell me you never argued before I came."

"Of course we did, but it wasn't personal, I didn't feel like I had to defend-"

"She doesn't like me."

"You haven't made any effort to try to get her to like you."

"Why should I? This is my house, this is my-"

"This is her family, Jake. And she's been kind enough to try to make room for you in it."

"I thought you were my family, too."

"I can't choose between the two of you, Jake. I shouldn't have to."

"If this is her family then how did she leave it so easily?She left you with all the work, and all the responsibilities."

"Yeah, and since you so clearly see that, you could help me out a bit, instead of making things harder for me."

"You may like taking on extra responsibilities, but I don't-"

"Forget it, Jake."

.............................................

Quinn's never been on her own before. Ever. Not even just one day. She's too upset to even be afraid, and in truth, the whole thing is kind of exhilarating, like being on a honey moon, but by herself. She orders room service often, and has even become friends with the bell boy, who thinks she's funny and weird, for being there all on her own.

She takes him up on his offer to show her around Chicago one day, and she's having a blast at first, blaming Santana for never taking her anywhere, until they go to a museum and she spots a portrait of a child that reminds her so much of Elliott it makes her heart hurt, makes her question if what she's doing will have an effect on her children.

Santana must have found a kind lie to tell, and they're used to being away from her, when they go to Finn's or to her mother's. She can't think that her absence for a couple of days will be a burden to anyone but Santana, who must, Quinn thinks smugly, have so much on her hands by now she's probably going crazy.

.............................................

Santana is so overwhelmed, she decides to take the next day off work. She thinks she'll spend it cleaning and organizing; she supposes she could hire a maid, just to spite Quinn, but that would be the ultimate betrayal, and, even worse, reassurance that no, her wife isn't coming back.

The day goes nothing as planned, however. Not even her morning is as usual, it is pouring outside and she can't go for her morning run, and she doesn't know what to do indoors except prance around the house like a crazy person, and understand her brother perhaps a little more. He laughs when he sees her.

"Imagine ten years of it."

Santana shakes her head in disbelief. "But at least you guys had a patio, right?"

"Yeah. And you know, we actually liked rainy days."

"You did?"

"Yeah. They'd let us paint."

Santana hears Jaeger's voice behind her. "Ooh, cool, can we paint?"

"No. You have to go to school."

"Mom, come on. Look outside."

Santana sighs. She really doesn't feel like going out.

"Fine. But we don't have any paint."

"Yeah, we do."

"Where?"

"The blue one Quinn used to paint our room."

Santana sighs again, and Jaeger grins. "I'll get Elliott and Daisy."

Jake nods. "I'll get some paper."

They set up a painting station in the living room, and Jake is careful to cover every inch of the place with plastic and newspaper, which Santana takes as a good sign.

Daisy refuses to come, once she finds out the only color paint they have is blue, and, like her mother, she's not a fan of making a mess anyway. Jake convinces Santana he can watch the kids, so she can get on their treadmill for an hour, at least.

When she comes back, sweaty and spent, she finds her brother asleep on the couch and Elliott and Jaeger whispering behind the coffee table.

"I already grabbed all the baby wipes from Daisy's room, I don't know what else-"

"It looks fine, we'll just move a piece of furniture over it, they'll never notice-"

"Are you craz? Mom is gonna go ballistic when she comes back-"

Both boys are holding wet rags in their hands, scrubbing at the carpet like there's no tomorrow. They're not having any luck, the carpet is bright blue, and so are their hands, their faces, and there are small, blue spots on several pieces of furniture. The harder they try to get it off, the more it spreads, and soon it's on their shoes and their clothes, too.

"Jaeger, this is all your fucking fault, I told you not to be moving around so much-"

"You were supposed to be holding on to the jar-"

At first they're interrupted by a tiny giggle from Santana, which then turns into a full-body laughter. They look at each other and then at her, wondering if all the crazy in the house has finally reached the sanest person in it, but then they start laughing, too.

"Oh, mom, we didn't mean to, it just-"

"I know you didn't," Santana says, amused.

"So, what are we gonna do?"

Santana shrugs. "I don't know. You tell me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I'm not gonna lift a finger to help you," Santana says, still laughing. "But if you guys know what's good for you, this place better be spotless before Quinn comes home."

Jaeger and Elliott glare at each other while they continue scrubbing, and tears of laughter are forming in Santana's eyes. She's pretty sure she's never laughed so hard, and she knows this is going to go down as one of the highlights of her life, one of those moments she will never want to forget, one of the ones she hopes she'll be allowed to keep even after she's gone forever.

..........................................

After days turn into weeks, Santana's regret begins to turn into resentment. She isn't two parents, she shouldn't have to be. She had thought, when she married Quinn, that she wouldn't be, ever again.

She had been under the impression that Quinn didn't do shit the whole day, but watching the kids, washing dishes, cooking, and shopping for groceries turn out to be too much added to everything else Santana already has to do.

She's had to take off afternoons from work, in order to be able to handle it all, and, most unforgivable of all, is that this is getting to her head and affecting her research.

There hasn't even been a call and she thinks about phoning the police, but instead calls Judy first, certain that what she told the kids is at least partially true and that maybe her wife will turn out to have been there all along.

"Fabray residence."

"Uh, yes, hello, Judy, this is-"

"I know who it is. Took you a while."

Santana sighs with relief. "She's there?"

"No. I don't know where she is. She just said to tell you she was fine."

Santana sighs. Of course Quinn wasn't at her parents. She was too proud to admit defeat, especially in front of them.

"What did you do to her, anyway? She wouldn't say."

"Who says I did anything?"

"And to think she wanted to run away to be with you, and now she's running away from you."

"I know, Judy. You probably want to laugh in my face."

"I warned you she was volatile."

"None of this is her fault."

"Maybe not. But I'll tell you what is her fault. Leaving her kids behind with some strange-"

"I'm their mother, Judy. They're my kids, too, and she obviously trusts me with them, whether you like it or not. There is nothing you can do about it."

"I could call their father, tell him she's gone missing."

"You wouldn't dare."

Judy laughs lightly. "I don't know how you're managing those kids all on your own."

"I'm doing fine. My brother is helping me."

"We could go pick them up, if you're overwhelmed."

"You think she'll be gone for long?"

"Who knows? You never know anything, with her."

...................................................

The phone call to Judy makes Santana unreasonably angry. She had imagined, before, Quinn crying herself to sleep in her childhood bedroom, and it almost, almost convinced to drive all the way to Judy's to get her, but now she's glad she called first. This isn't Quinn, sick with grief and acting on it, it's a deliberate, calculated revenge her wife is carrying out. She takes a hot shower after, trying to calm down, but instead sets her skin on fire, turning the water as hot as it will go, and feels her temper burning within her, boiling, water rising to the surface.

She is afraid of herself with Quinn's children, now, and Jake can tell. She won't talk to them or even look their way, scared something in their faces will remind her of her wife, scared of what she will do if it does, scared they will figure out she's angry and lying, scared she'll take out her anger on them when it's Quinn she's angry at.

So Jake makes dinner, and actually sits down to help the kids with their homework, and after, to play Monopoly. Santana laughs bitterly, at the fact that her ill brother is right now the sanest one out of all of them, and the most fit to care for the children.


	28. Chapter 28

So, I wanted to post this today in hopes that it would end on a more positive note, and it turned out super long, which means I might not be able to update on Sunday, and if I do, it will be a very short chapter.

This story is making me think maybe my idea of sad or depressing is just different to other people's, I don't know.

Thanks for all your kudos, I appreciate every single one of them.

...

She dresses up that night, after she's certain everyone is asleep. She hasn't done it in such a long time she feels like a different person, with her smoky eyes and skin-tight, navy blue dress, which Quinn got her last Christmas in hopes she'd start dressing better, but which still has the tags on.

She checks on the kids before she leaves. Elliott is spread out on Quinn's king-sized bed with his tennis shoes still on, almost like his growing body doesn't mind the extra space now that his mother is gone.

Jaeger is asleep too, even though he doesn't have a bedtime and it's really kind of early for him. He's dozed off in a chair in front of his computer, huge headphones around his ears, something that sounds like heavy metal blasting from within. Santana smiles at his choice of lullaby, she couldn't have picked anything better.

It is Daisy she has trouble finding, her heart stopping for a bit when she realizes she's not in her bedroom. Thankfully, their house is not too large, and she finds her in the floor of the laundry room, sleeping soundly on a rug, arms wrapped around an awake but unmoving Nugget.

It touches Santana in a way nothing has in a while, and she hopes Daisy will never, ever forget the way her dog lay down like an arrow, all pointy snout and legs curved underneath, the way he smelled like dust inside an old home, and the way he looked at her so sweetly, like she was the queen of the world.

...................................

The gay scene in Chicago is right up her ally. There are women there way better looking than her wife, but none of them have her eyes or her golden brown hair, none remind her of summer. So instead she looks for one that doesn't; white hair, transparent skin and ice blue eyes. Winter.

Maybe she has a thing for blondes. Maybe she never bothered to ask herself what she liked. Maybe that was the problem in the first place.

Winter's skin is warm to the touch, a stark contrast to her wife's cool flesh. She's warm too, easy to talk to, and makes everything seem easy, even a one night stand, even cheating. She wears a floor-length skirt and a crown of pale flowers. Her skirt comes off easily, but the flowers on the crown tangle in her hair.

Santana feels tangled too, in all of her long limbs; no doubt she is about to fuck another model. She cannot, even for a minute, pretend she's with her wife, everything about this is different; angles, textures, sounds. Suddenly, she feels like she can't breathe and pushes Winter off her.

Winter adjusts her blue bikini top and rolls over on her stomach. She smiles sweetly at Santana.

"First time?"

"No. God, no." She pauses a little, then. "Second. Well, second with another girl."

"You're not a gold star, then."

"What's that?"

"Someone who's only ever been with women."

"No. Are you?"

Winter nods. "Known I was gay since I was eight."

"Lucky."

Winter shrugs. "Maybe."

"Was this going that badly? Be honest."

"No. Why do you ask?"

"Because you asked if it was my first time."

"I asked because you seemed sort of out of it."

"Oh."

"So if it wasn't your first time, then... you must be... in a relationship? Engaged?"

"Married."

"Oh."

"Or... I don't know. At least I think I am."

"Man or woman?"

"Woman."

"It's me who must have been bad, then. By comparison."

"Oh, no. I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. It's just-"

"Different."

"Yeah."

"Don't worry about me. I'm actually sorry you feel bad."

"I don't, though."

She surprises herself by saying it, because it's true. She doesn't feel guilty or sick. But she doesn't feel satisfied or relieved either. She thought this would be crucial, life altering, but really, it's forgettable, though she knows she will never forget it, never tell Quinn about, even though nothing happened. She has no interest in seeing Winter again, feels no attraction to her whatsoever, and she wonders if she's even capable of feeling that way anymore, toward anyone.  
...................................

Santana's known late nights since she was sixteen and fell in love for the first and what she thought would be the only time. She loved Jake like he was life, maybe he actually was her life, or at least the only thing in it that was worth her love, and loved Jaeger much the same when he had been born. But falling in love is different.

For her, it came in the form of microscopes and lab coats, and a teacher who gave her the chance her parents never did, of being special, of having her own dream. She was usually in a lab somewhere, roaming halls late at night, feeling like she was sneaking around, but never feeling like she was somewhere she shouldn't be. If anything, in her mind, this was where she belonged, the only place where she ever would.

When she wasn't there she was outside, in the woods or by the lake, gathering samples of insects that, like her, were nocturnal. Quinn was scared of the dark, but Santana lived it, and she sometimes felt it lived in her.

She never expected anyone to wait up for her; her parents when they were around, or her grandparents when they weren't. She didn't even know it was a thing someone ought to be concerned about, their teenage daughter being out at night. No one except Jake, who as a child had been much like her Jaeger, fairly reasonable, fairly normal.

It had come as a shock to Santana, finding him perched atop their kitchen counter the first night she came home late. "Jake? What's going on?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

Santana had never had to explain herself to anyone, much less a kid, so she ignored him and went straight to the fridge, grabbing some bread and mayo to make herself a sandwich.

"Where were you?"

Words had never been Santana's strong suit, not even as a teenager.

"Out."

"Doing what?"

Santana stuffed a piece of bread into her mouth, irritated. "I don't know, Jake. I had stuff to do, OK?"

"Since when?"

"Since now."

"And you didn't think to call?"

"No. And obviously I was right not to, no one seems to be too concerned by my absence except for you."

Jake doesn't look like he's gonna cry, he never cries, but Santana feels guilty anyway.

"I'm sorry."

"Were you drinking?"

"Jake! No! Are you insane? Do you really think I would... after..."

"Maybe it runs in the family."

But Santana shakes her head firmly. "I'm sorry I kept you up."

Jake shrugs. "It's not like I could sleep anyway."

It's that night that his sleepless nights begin, and Santana blames herself for them sometimes, even though she's talked to endless doctors and is intelligent enough to know it's not her fault.

Their house is huge, designed by her parents almost as if on purpose, their room on one side of the house, their children's on the opposite. It's only Santana who hears him that first night, screaming like he's being murdered, and she doesn't care if she gets murdered too, she runs to him before even thinking about waking her parents, but he's OK, just dreaming.

He screams every night after that. Everyone pretends they can't hear him, until Santana, one night, gets tired of pretending and gets into bed with him. He calms down immediately. He only screams when he's alone, and Santana begins sleeping with him, because her parents won't.

No one knows the reason behind it, least of all Jake, but they're both scared shitless, her kid brother because he doesn't understand why his mind is turning on him, and Santana because she can only imagine the things that must be running through it to bring about such a reaction.

They share a bed for years, and when they get too big, Santana sleeps on the floor of Jake's room. Her parents like to pretend their children don't share a room, or maybe they don't even know, so there is no hope of an extra bed. Santana lays some pillows and blankets on the floor to build herself a makeshift cot, where she sleeps for the remainder of her teenage years.

While he's still a kid, a couple of weeks after they start sleeping in the same bed, the sound of Jake laughing wakes Santana. She sits up, startled, and looks at him. He's sound asleep.

It happens almost every morning after that, around six. His laughter is so loud it wakes her every time, and sometimes even himself. It is the best alarm clock, and upsets her only once in her life, the day she leaves for college, because she's sure, somehow, that she won't ever hear it again.

...............................

He sleeps soundly now, at least she thinks so, but when she gets home that night he's, deja-vu, waiting for he on the kitchen counter. She remembers and knows he does, too. This time, he's the one to head to the fridge and make her a sandwich, which she eats ravenously.

"I would have called, but I thought you were asleep."

Jake makes a face. "It still doesn't come easy. Probably never will."

"Really? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Nothing you can do. I'm already drowning in pills."

Santana opens the fridge, looking for something to drink. "Jesus, sometimes I wish we were the kind of family that keep beer in their fridge."

"We were."

Santana flinches at that. "Sorry, I didn't-"

"It's fine. You grew up there, too. Plus, I can't drink with all the fucking medicine I take. And I think you've had quite enough for tonight."

It strikes Santana, suddenly, how right he is, and she loses balance on her heels. She holds on to the counter and he doesn't help her, just watches.

"Did you do it?"

"What?"

"What I imagine you set out to do."

"Which is?"

"Cheat on her."

Santana buries her face in her hands and sits down cross-legged on the floor. "My mind wanted to so bad. But my body... No. I couldn't."

Jake smiles. "Your body? You're not a guy. You probably mean your heart."

Santana looks up at her brother. "What do you know about hearts?"

Jake shrugs. "You. Jaeger. I know it's not the same thing, but-"

"No, you're right. I'm sorry. It's exactly the same thing."

"Do you still wish you had?"

"What? Cheated on her?"

"Uh-huh."

Santana shrugs. "Fuck her."

Jake raises his eyebrows. "Really?"

His sister sighs. "No. Not really."

..................................

And one day, just like that, she's back. Three weeks of hotel fees charged to Santana's credit card, and she decided to come home. Why?

"I ran out of toothpaste," Quinn whispers quietly.

Santana thinks that before, this would have felt like a punch to the stomach, but now, it must be a sign of the times that she feels nothing. She just gets her keys and goes, off to work, to make up all those hours she should have spent there but didn't.

If the kids notice Santana's not talking to their mother, they don't mention it. They're just glad Quinn's home and Caroline's all right. Nothing seems much affected by Quinn's absence, with the exception of Santana's temper, and although she tries to pretend it doesn't hurt, her wife's silence is wounding. They seldom saw each other before, they slept in different rooms and all, but now Santana's gotten so good at avoiding her that Quinn feels like they don't even live in the same house anymore.

She sits on one of the kitchen stools one morning, mourning over the state of her lost marriage. She never thought it would come to this, come to this so quickly, when her other marriage, the one she considered a failure, lasted more than fifteen years. Maybe she's just not cut out for marriage, she thinks, and the notion is ridiculous, because if she's not cut our for marriage, then what is she cut out for?

She's sobbing her troubles away when Jake comes in. She quickly wipes her cheeks, she'd forgotten he was home, because ever since she came back, he's made himself as scarce as possible. He begins banging pots and pans, to make his usual steak, and Quinn can't bring herself to stop crying.

Jake is very bad at dealing with emotions, he has a hard enough time with his own, and other people's prove even more of a challenge. He grabs a drawing that was pinned to the fridge and hands it to Quinn. Daisy's craftsmanship, outlining her family as a multi-membered thing that includes Quinn, Willow, Elliott, Santana, Jaeger and even Jake, and Finn floating far away on an orange cloud. It only makes Quinn cry even harder.

"I'm an awful mother. And you know what the worst thing is? I wasn't even worried about them. I was sure they'd be fine."

"They were."

"I know, but-

"But you can't just be running away from your children," he says quietly.

"It's not like I went on a three year vacation, Jake."

"Not, but, after a while they start to add up."

"How do you know?"

"Experience."

........................................

She doesn't tell Santana she's sort of speaking to Jake now, because she knows it will please her. Quinn doesn't want to please her, especially not since she's been spending more and more time at work, and so she keeps the fact that her and Jake are all right a secret.

Jake can tell, and he plays along because he finds it amusing.

"Almost like we're having an affair," he says laughing. She catches him once or twice, about to burst out laughing with the secrecy of it all, but he lets her keep it, it's her secret to tell.

..........................................

The next day, Quinn wakes up with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. It reminds her of those days when she knew, without really knowing, that Finn was leaving for work; in the dark but aware something was wrong, nevertheless.

It's a Sunday, and this feeling has succeeded in waking her up earlier than anyone. She jumps off bed, glad that Elliot sleeps like a rock now, and threads barefoot throughout the house. She checks on Daisy first, for some reason, but she's sound asleep, peaceful in a way Quinn's sure she will be even in adulthood, in spite of the life she's had, or maybe because of it. Of course she'd have slept soundly too, if she'd had two older brothers who adored her, if she hadn't always been alone, too afraid of her parents to go to them even in nights of lighting and thunder.

She thinks she hears Nugget's tags jingling outside, or maybe it's just some birds chirping, but the noise draws her out. She feels insane, in the fog and her silk robe at six in the morning, bare feet in the dew.

The tree they have at home reminds her of the one they had at Finn's, (funny how she thinks of it as Finn's now, although the house had belonged to both of them, had been their pick, hers more than his, when she saw the backyard and fell in love with it) only it's not a pine, but a wide, sweeping ficus. Its dark, lush leaves fall about a hundred a minute and turn brown and flaky as soon as they hit the ground, driving her crazy because she's always asking Jake to rake them and her never does.

She enjoys the crunch of them under her feet now, and the thought that there could be bugs lurking underneath them doesn't even cross her mind, even though she's so afraid of them. She stands there, in the dark, in her clear, billowing nightgown, like a ghost, until someone from inside turns on the patio light, with its green, eerie glow, and she's glad she's not alone. She doesn't turn around to see who it is, but she's relieved, for some reason, even though the footsteps aren't coming any nearer, that at least someone's there.

She keeps walking until she's standing right underneath the tree, and if she disliked it before, she dreads it now, badly, when she spots Nugget's unmoving body resting on it's roots. She doesn't want to touch him, but bends over and does anyway. His fur is soft, probably from Daisy brushing it so often, but cold. He wears the same peaceful expression his owner did in sleep, only he's not breathing. The first thought that comes to her mind is that he's shiny even in death.

Quinn thinks she loves him then, the only moment she ever did, when it's, as usual, too late.

She doesn't know anything about animals, but this is precisely why she dislikes them. Maybe Nugget was weak, maybe he never really got stronger, and that's why Quinn hated him. Like she was anyone to judge weakness in others, when she herself inhabited it's realm daily and to the fullest, when she herself lived by every single one of its rules, but who cared, who gave a fuck, judging everyone else's weakness was just a quintessential part of her own.

.................................

She leaves the body there and goes back inside the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee. She sits on a stool and sips on it calmly, until she's ready to go back outside. When she does, she can spot Jake from far away, covering the lifeless body with fallen leaves, dropping them over Nugget like they're rain. He's not shoveling or raking them, just grabbing them off the dirt by the handful gently, more gently than anyone would have expected from someone like him.

Quinn drags herself to him slowly, until they're standing shoulder to shoulder and Jake shifts a little.

"He must have eaten a poisonous mushroom."

He points to a pair of large ones growing next to the roots of the ficus, and Quinn doesn't even wonder how he knows, because even though he's been locked up for most of his life, he's still a Lopez, he must. She had never noticed the mushrooms before, maybe because she never comes outside. They are lilac, pale blue and bright yellow. It seems evil, unfair, that something so beautiful could take life so easily, and it makes her distrust the world a little more.

Jake keeps covering the body with the dried leaves, and Quinn tears the mushrooms from the ground in anger and tosses them over their wooden fence, into the neighbor's yard. Once her anger subsides, she sighs and helps Jake cover Nugget's body too, until there is nothing left of him except a pile, no different from any other pile of leaves in the world, as if Jake had actually helped her rake this time. Quinn is glad the children never play in that dark corner of the yard, glad she hasn't allowed them to since Elliott fell off that fucking, cursed tree.

All of sudden, tears are running down the side of Quinn's face and she feels stupid and weak, trying to wipe them so Jake won't notice, thinks it would be kind if he pretended not to, but kindness is not Jake's forte.

Instead, he clears his throat. "I'm sorry. It sucks losing someone you like. You must feel bad."

He says it on automatic, like it's something he's been taught to say, something that he doesn't really feel but that he knows is the right thing to say, the right way to comfort another human being.

"No. I feel bad because I never actually liked him."

"And what, you think the kids are going to resent you for that?"

"Yeah."

"I doubt it."

Quinn shrugs. "Daisy will, at least."

"Maybe. I don't think Elliott or Jaeger will care too much."

"Elliott's so sensitive."

"Like you."

"I wish people would stop saying that. My kids' fucking dog just died, and I don't feel shit."

Jake traces the streak of a tear on her cheek without saying anything. Quinn pulls away defensively.

"It's not because of the stupid dog. I just feel bad for Daisy. I told her this would happen. I knew this would happen."

"And she'll blame you. That's what hurts you. Not that her heart's gonna be broken."

"You know me so well, Jake," Quinn says sarcastically.

"You're not all that hard to figure out."

"Of course I'm upset my daughter's gonna be in pain."

"We're not all that different, you know."

"Jake, no offense, but you were in a mental ward for ten years."

They both stare at the pile of leaves that used to be Nugget's body silently.

"Have you ever wondered if you were crazy?"

"All the time."

Jake's taken aback by her frankness.

"And?"

"You seriously think I'd have the courage to check myself into a mental institution?"

Jake shrugs.

"Did it even help you?"

He smiles sardonically. "Do you think it did?"

Quinn shrugs and they're silent again.

"Well, at least you know Jaeger won't be upset."

"He is tough, isn't he?"

Jake makes a face. "I don't even know why. His parents spoiled him rotten."

"Nah. Santana loves him, but she doesn't let him off the hook too easily."

"Yeah, but his piece of shit father-"

"Not fair, Jake. Sam loves him, too."

"He has no idea how to raise a child."

"Doesn't mean he doesn't love him."

Jake pauses. "Jaeger's... cold. For a child so loved."

"He's not cold, he's just... different."

"Well, I'm sure you're relieved he won't make a scene."

"Oh, he's not gonna cry over Nugget, but he'll probably be the first to accuse me of hating the damn dog."

"Did you hate him?"

"I don't like animals. I told Santana that."

"Then why did you-"

"Because I love her."

"Who?"

"Your sister, all right? I love her, Jake, and she wanted one, and I couldn't say no to her. I could have said no to Daisy, should have said no to Daisy. I could have said no to anyone, but not to her."

It's the first time Jake's heard Quinn express anything for his sister that isn't anger or annoyance, the first time he's ever heard her express love for anyone, but he's not ready to address it, not yet.

"I don't like animals much myself."

"You don't? I always thought you liked Nugget. I saw you petting him."

Jake rolls his eyes. "That hardly means I liked him. It's just that for a while it felt like he was the only one here who liked me."

Quinn hangs her head. "Santana wanted you here. So badly. She has wanted you on this earth since before you were born. Sometimes I think she must have wished you into being. And after... she counted the days. Literally counted the days until she could bring you home."

"I know."

"And Jaeger loves you, too."

Jake shrugs. "I guess. As much as Jaeger can love another human being. Which isn't saying a lot." He pauses. "Though he seems to have no problem of that with your son."

Quinn ignores this. "And even my kids... you're growing on them."

"It's you that's the problem, then."

Quinn sighs. "It's always me that's the problem."

"I know the feeling."

"So you really don't like animals?"

Jake shrugs. "Didn't come upon a lot of them at the hospital. So, obviously, first encounter I had with one of them was disastrous. It was a horse."

"Sounds familiar."

"You know, funny thing is, I used to love them when I was a kid. Much like Jaeger. He reminds me a lot of myself. Before I lost it, of course."

"I know Santana says Jaeger loves animals, but he's so..."

"Detached? That's good. It's why he'll make a perfect doctor."

"Yeah. I guess. He's so grossly talented at everything he tries... I could picture him being anything. A dancer, a doctor, a fucking mechanical engineer."

"At the hospital, they used to let us borrow books. A lot. As many as we wanted. And my favorite were always about animals. They seemed so foreign to me. Like they might not even be real. Like they didn't even exist, like they were one of those things I was never gonna get to see."

"But you did."

"Yeah, and it was a fucking disappointment. I looked forward to getting out of there every single day of my life, and now, sometimes, I wish I could go back. I looked forward to life, and now I find most of it disappointing."

"Welcome to my world."

But Jake is already off to another subject. "I like birds. I could hear them, at the hospital, and try to imagine what they were like. Once I got a good look at one, I realized their eyes are kind of creepy. But I still like them."

Quinn smiles. "I like them, too. I just wish they didn't die so easy."

Jake points at the pile of leaves. "Dogs are supposed to live until they're eighteen, and look."

"Yeah, but we always knew he wasn't going to last long."

"No one else seemed to think so."

"I did. From the first time I laid eyes on him."

"And that's why you're scared the kids are gonna think-"

"That I brought this upon him? I don't know. Maybe."

....................................

They head back into the kitchen and make breakfast only for the two of them. They eat it comfortably, the earliest and the latest riser, thinking they ought to feel like murder because of the body outside, but not feeling much at all, like the pair of serial killers they're both convinced they are.

After breakfast, Quinn grabs a shovel and heads outside. Next to the pile of leaves, under the tree, she begins digging a hole. She's never used a shovel before in her life, and she's sweating. Jake is watching her from the kitchen, still eating and not offering help that he knows would be refused.

It's not until about thirty minutes later that Santana shows up, yawning and watching her brother snacking on a bowl of grapes, eyes fixed outside. She grabs one and pops in into her mouth.

"What's going on?"

Jake says nothing, and Santana looks out their French window and sees her wife struggling with the shovel.

"Jake, what the fuck?"

Jake shrugs and Santana runs outside. She completely forgets they're not talking to each other when she gets a look at Quinn's hands, blistered and raw. She takes the shovel from her, tosses it aside and grabs her hands in her own, kissing every red spot and wound. Quinn shuts her eyes until tears start streaming down her face, and Santana, after wiping them, picks the shovel back up and starts digging again, with much more ease, while Quinn watches.

"How big do you want it?"

"Big enough to fit Nugget."

Santana stops shoveling, wiping sweat off her forehead, and looks up at Quinn, startled.

"What?"

"Nugget died."

Santana figures it's useless asking how or why or when. "Where is he?"

Quinn points to the pile of leaves that lies nearby.

Santana glances at it like she can barely bear to do it, and for the first time in her life, Quinn sees her look afraid.

"Quinn, go back inside."

"What?"

"Go inside. Watch some TV or something."

"But I want-"

"No. I was the one who brought the dog into the house, and it's my responsibility to deal with this mess."

Quinn kisses her on the cheek, tentatively, but Santana places both her hands, forgetting about the dirt on them, on her wife's face and kisses her on the lips lightly. It reminds her of those fleeting first kisses they'd shared as they fell in love, and it leaves her wanting more, more she can't have now, more she almost lost, and she wonders how she could have ever been stupid enough to think anyone's lips, ever, would feel the same.

They pull away and look into each other's eyes, and there is dirt on the tip of Santana's nose, and some on Quinn's cheeks. Santana remembers how her wife hates getting dirty. "I got dirt all over you, I'm sorry."

She wipes a hand on her pajama bottoms and reaches out to clean her wife's face, but Quinn's shaking her head, and smiling at the dirt on Santana's nose. Before Santana can do anything, Quinn leans forward and licks the dirt off her, like a cat.

She smiles and goes back inside, not even bothering to wipe her own face, and winking at the awestruck look on her wife's face.


	29. Chapter 29

"You never liked him, Mommy, you never even wanted him around, you-"

Daisy's judgment hurts, but her pain, surprisingly, hurts Quinn even more. She curses herself for saying yes to Santana and not sparing her child this pain when she could have. Santana looks guilty, too. She's never seen Daisy throw a fit before. As a matter of fact, neither has Quinn, but it's nothing new or frightening for her because it's completely reminiscent of Willow's accusing childhood tantrums, which she used to throw all the time for reasons much more minor than this, like wanting a new doll, or, coincidentally, the puppy Quinn never let her get.

The six of them are gathered outside, under the tree and over the spot where Nugget's body used to lay and which is now just a flat piece of earth.

"And you didn't even let me see him, you didn't even let me say goodbye to him-"

Elliott has his arms around Daisy, and Jaeger is looking accusingly at his own mother. "You should have let her see the body."

"She's not you, Jaeger," Santana snaps. "She's seven years old, she would have been traumatized."

Jaeger scoffs. "When I was seven, I was already dissecting-"

Jake interrupts. "When I was seven, my father threw a beer bottle at the side of my head. That doesn't mean it's all right."

They're all silent. Daisy has thrown herself over the spot where Santana buried Nugget, not caring about getting her favorite tutu and ballet slippers ruined beyond repair.

Jake has words, Santana has words, Quinn has words. I'm so sorry, forgive me, I know what it feels like, give it time, it will pass, we can get another, it's OK to cry, I know it hurts, I understand you're in pain. They have words, but they're all cliches and they're afraid to use them, afraid to break the silence of Daisy's sobs and that sound again, of birds, or maybe Nugget's tags, jingling in the distance.

They're afraid because they know words are never enough, that they're never any comfort, much less when you're a child. They're afraid their words will be no good, and if words can't fix this, then what will?

Jaeger and Elliott are too young to have words, but Jaeger, strangely enough, feels Daisy's pain and tears running through his veins like they're his own blood, and he lies his body on top of hers like a shield, like it can protect her from the outside world, only this pain isn't outside, but locked, trapped inside her organs.

Elliott looks at them, and, hesitating for only an instant, lies his own body atop Jaeger's. He worries, for a fraction of a second, about what his mother will think, and also realizes that this might be the only time he gets to be so close to his brother. Jaeger's body is racking with Daisy's sobs, but comfortable in a way Elliott thinks another human body shouldn't be.

Elliott's weight on him makes Jaeger feel relief, like he doesn't have to absorb all of Daisy's pain, now he has someone to share it with. He holds one of Daisy's hands in his, grabs Elliott's with the other, and by the time the adults turn to look at one another, there are tears running down every single face, even Jake's.

...............................................

It had always been Quinn's secret hope her children wouldn't be like her. She loved it that Willow was so similar to her physically; her good looks were the only advantageous inheritance she felt she could give her children. But she had always hoped they wouldn't be like her in any other way. Elliott was, that was undeniable, and Willow wasn't, although it wasn't very pleasing that she was so much like Quinn's own mother either. But now, with Nugget's death, Quinn had a feeling they were about to see what Daisy was made of.

That day, after the burial, Daisy goes to sleep and doesn't wake up until the next day. No one has the heart to wake her, not even to make her eat, they figure if she gets too hungry, any hunger pains worse that the actual pain she's in will be enough to wake her.

The next morning, Quinn finds her at the kitchen table with Jake and Santana, eating cereal and cheerfully putting together an album that consists of pictures of Nugget Quinn wasn't even aware they had.

"Who took all those?" she asks.

"I did," says Santana, a little guiltily. Quinn goes over to her and hugs her. She had forgotten that Santana, too, liked the dog.

"Morning, mommy," says Daisy, smiling at a picture of Nugget flying through the air after a ball, so quickly he looks blurry.

"Morning, baby. How are you?"

"All right."

Daisy is, as most children her age, very transparent, but Quinn still searches her face for clues that something might not be OK and is relieved to find nothing, or at least, nothing too obvious, though only God knows if that might be more dangerous.

"You sure you're fine?"

"Yeah. Look."

Daisy shows her another picture of Nugget, holding a dead bird in his snout, and Quinn flinches at it. God, she never did like that dog.

"Daisy, you're not... sad?"

She almost doesn't want to ask, doesn't want to remind Daisy about the pain she was in yesterday, but the twenty hours she spent in bed seem to have done away with it, or at least put it to sleep.

Her daughter looks at her solemnly. "My heart is broken, mommy."

It's innocent, Daisy is obviously too young to know what a broken heart is, and this experience is not deep enough to be heartbreaking, but Quinn can tell she's serious. She wraps her arms around her daughter and kisses the top of her head. "Do you want another dog?"

Santana looks up from her bowl of cereal, hopefully. "Really?"

Jake makes a face at Quinn, and she shrugs. "Or a cat?"

Santana scrunches up her nose in a gesture extremely similar to Jake's. "I hate cats."

Quinn looks like she's running out of ideas. "A fish?"

Jake snorts. "Yeah, cause those don't die at all."

But Daisy is just shaking her head at all of them, and Quinn is glad her brother's aren't here, because they'd be jumping all over the idea of these new pets.

"No, mommy. Maybe when I'm older. Or maybe it's like you said, and animals aren't supposed to live in people's houses."

Quinn shakes her head. "Oh, Daisy, I hate it that I said that, I-"

"Maybe they all need to be in a zoo, where people can take care of them. We're going to the zoo today, mommy."

"We are?" Quinn asks, looking around the table.

"We are?" asks Jake, looking pointedly at his sister.

Santana shrugs.

"It's just that Uncle Jake's never been," Daisy explains.

"Baby, he's never been because he's afraid of animals," Quinn says gently. "And you know I don't like them."

"He's not really afraid, mommy. He's just never been around any."

Jake looks a little green, but Santana is nodding, and Jaeger and Elliott choose that moment to come in.

"We're going to the zoo? Cool."

"Wait a minute," Quinn says. "No one ever said-"

"Santana did, mommy."

Quinn raises her eyebrows at her wife. "And this came about how?"

Santana sighs, deflated. "I didn't know your children had never been to a zoo."

"That's because I don't like animals, Santana."

Jaeger turns to Elliott, incredulous. "You've never been to a zoo?"

"Nope. Have I missed out?"

Daisy, whom Quinn is beginning to think has grown up rather quickly after what happened, looks around the room. "Why don't we take a vote?"

They do, and Santana, to no one's surprise, sides with the children. Jake and Quinn sigh heavily, but neither can argue too much; it's Daisy's day.

...................................

Quinn, Santana and Jake stay behind the kids as they let them run wild. They pass by a giraffe exhibit, and Jake turns his head around completely at an angle so he won't have to even glance at them. Quinn's not really afraid, but all these hoards of people make her nervous. Santana looks awfully guilty.

"I'm sorry, guys. I don't know how things got so out of-"

Jaeger interrupts. "Can we go see the bats, now?"

"Bats?" Quinn asks nervously. The thought had never even occurred to her.

Jake grins at Quinn. "That actually sounds kind of cool."

"No, it sounds scary."

"Why would anybody be scared of a bat? All they do is suck on fruit," says Jaeger, with obvious disappointment.

So they go to the bat exhibit. Jake finds he's actually pretty fascinated by them, and Elliott is fascinated because Jaeger is fascinated, and Daisy is just bored. Quinn is biting her lips and beginning to feel breathless when she feels her son's hand, no longer smaller than hers, but strong and steady, hold on to hers. It startles her, because it's familiar and unfamiliar; it reminds her of Finn's. Elliott turns to look at her, and Quinn sees something in his eyes she's never seen there before. Determination, confidence.

"It's OK, mom."

"I know," Quinn says, frowning at the bats. "I'm looking at them, aren't I?"

"No, I mean, it's OK if I hold your hand. Jaeger holds mine sometimes when I'm afraid."

The concerned look on Quinn's face doesn't escape Jake, who actually glances back at his nephew, amused. But then Santana holds Quinn's other hand, and it's actually all right.

Daisy insists on seeing the wolves, in honor of Nugget, even though these majestic, frightening creatures remind no one, except probably his former owner, of Nugget. They run with conviction, with a fearlessness that makes Quinn wonder why the lord didn't fashion all his creatures with such beauty and strength, why he bothered to make any weak ones like her, when he could have made this, only this, forever.

The zoo is not as bad as any of them imagined, except perhaps for Jaeger, who expects too much and is disappointed that not all animals he wanted to see are there. Santana doesn't want to see the bugs, she sees plenty at work, so they spend a long time at the aviary, to please Jake, who finds even his deranged, prodigious brain could never have fathomed such a variety of color and sound.

The aviary was the only part of the trip Quinn was looking forward to, and the truth is, she doesn't enjoy it all. It is so different, seeing birds in flight, like part of life, like a sign, like something that gives meaning and existence, than seeing them here, in cages, like they're locked inside the pages of a book. Santana, ever logical, tries to explain that it's for their own good, that they'd be extinct in the wild now, and Quinn knows, she understands, but feels so much for them; beautiful and here, unable to move.

Elliott seems pleasantly interested in everything they see, be it bears, dolphins, or lions. Quinn thinks about how sweet and how like his father her little boy is turning out to be, and even though she doesn't like thinking about Finn, she's proud her son is outgrowing her temperament, and growing into his.

......................................

They go out for ice cream afterward, and feel like a real family for the first time, so much so that Daisy, Elliott and Jaeger all end up sleeping in their parents bed, all together like a litter of puppies, and Quinn doesn't even mind. Jake locks himself in the studio, too tired from dealing with so many people and emotions in just a couple of hours, and Quinn wonders where the heck she's going to sleep when she feels Santana pulling her by the waist into the room she sleeps in with Jaeger and begin reaching under her yellow sundress.

"Santana!"

"What?"

"We can't do it here."

"Why not?"

"Your son sleeps in here."

"So? He won't care. Plus, he's never gonna know."

"I'll know."

Santana sighs. "Fine. Living room?"

"Someone could walk in on us."

"Daisy's room?"

Quinn glares at her wife, who laughs. "Kitchen floor? I don't know, Quinn. There is no place for us to have sex in our own house."

"Why don't we just go?"

"Go? Go where?"

"I don't know. Drive around somewhere."

..........................................

While she's driving with Santana, windows down and metal music turned all the way up and blasting from the stereo, Quinn realizes she was never a teenager at all. This is what teenagers do, she realizes, what Willow must have loved to do, and all those times Quinn didn't let her, maybe she was just jealous, and she understands, suddenly, why her daughter hated her, because missing out on this was missing out on a lot.

She feels adrenaline cruising through her that night, like she's cool, the Quinn with the pink hair she could have been, and not the cheerleader she was. She wonders if she chose wrong, if the choice would have made a difference.

They have sex in the back of the car, parked somewhere. Afterward, on their way home, Quinn falls asleep in the back seat, like she used to when she was a child, traveling with her parents. She dreams of a wolf, running through the forest, and a bird, closing its eyes to sleep.

................................................

Santana must have carried her inside, because in the morning, she finds herself tucked into Jaeger's bed. He comes in to change for school and the noise wakes her. He looks at her weirdly. Quinn closes her eyes and pretends to go back to sleep, cheeks bright red. Santana comes in a little later and cuddles with her, five minutes before she has to take the kids to school.

Quinn stares at the ceiling, pensive.

"I want to go to a gay bar and have a woman hit on me."

"What?"

"You got to do it, why shouldn't I?"

It hits Santana, a flash of pale limbs and a long, billowing skirt, and for a minute she feels like she can't breathe and pushes Quinn off her.

"Santana? I'm sorry, I didn't mean... it's just that, you told me you went, years ago, remember? Before we got married."

Santana sighs, hoping Quinn won't see her relief.

"Yeah. I remember."

.........................................

She falls back asleep after Santana leaves, and wakes around one or two, her usual rising time. She has to make dinner, or at least after-school snacks, but she has never felt like doing anything else in her life. It's been such an overwhelming weekend, with Nuggets' death and with being forced out of the house, that she actually feels a slight anger simmering somewhere, and it frightens her.

She goes out to the kitchen, thinking, without the guilt that would have assaulted her if she was still married to Finn, that she will just cook the easiest, if not the most delicious or healthiest, thing she can find. If Jaeger refuses to eat it and makes himself a peanut butter sandwich instead, well, that's his prerogative.

Instead, she finds the kitchen already smells like food, and it's delicious. It's never smelled like this before, she realizes with sadness, not even Christmas, or Thanksgiving. Take-out is just never the same as home-cooked food.

She sits down in a stool, wordlessly, to watch Jake flipping and stirring and handling several dishes at once. He turns to look at her and shakes his head.

"About some time someone cooked some real food in this house. Aren't you supposed to be from the South?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So Southerners are famous for their dishes."

"I can name them, I just can't make them."

He pours her a cup of cold coffee and hands it to her. Obviously, it's been sitting on the counter for a while, waiting for her.

"So, you can actually cook?"

"I cook everyday."

"Yeah, but I mean, something other than steak?"

He shrugs. "It's just some rice and beans. I learned in jail."

Quinn chokes on her drink. "What?"

Jake raises his eyebrows. "Let me guess. My sister never told you I was in jail."

"No."

"Must have slipped her mind."

"Right."

"Most things do, you know."

"Not this one. She knew she couldn't tell me this one."

"Why?"

Quinn looks inside her cup of coffee intently, like it contains, not the future, but the explanations to her own feelings. "Because there's no way I would have let you in the house if I'd known."

"It's my house too, you know."

"Yeah. That's the worst part."

Jake goes back to the stove-top, which is demanding his attention.

"So, what's it like, living with an ex-con?"

"Well, I don't know. I've only known I was living with one for the past three minutes."

"Honestly, though, if Santana thought I was dangerous, she would have never let me come here."

Quinn sighs. "I don't know with Santana anymore."

....................................................

The three of them sit around the kitchen table after they're sure the kids are asleep, trying to keep their voices down.

"So, we're all adults here, we should be able to have a civilized-"

"There are two people here who are not capable of having a civilized conversation right now, one because she's a liar, and myself, because I'm pretty fucking upset. Surprisingly enough, the ex-convict is not one of them."

Santana sighs. "Oh, so that's what this is about. Well, if we can't have a civilized conversation, maybe we shouldn't be having this conversation at all."

"Oh, no. We're having it. I don't give a fuck if it's two in the morning, we're having it."

"Of course you also don't give a fuck I have to work tomorrow. And take the kids to school. And-"

"Just like you didn't give a fuck about telling me your brother-"

"Quinn, can Jake just stay out of this?" Santana asks, glancing at her brother. "None of this is his fault, I don't see why he has to listen to-"

"Because apparently he's the only person in this house who actually tells me the truth," Quinn hisses.

Santana rolls her eyes. "Jake, please leave."

He grins. "Not for all the money in the world."

Santana rubs her hands with her eyes. "You guys get along now, Quinn. I don't get what the problem is."

"The problem is that you lied to me."

"OK. I'm sorry I lied to you. There. You happy now?"

"I'm supposed to be happy you're keeping secrets from me?"

Santana feels momentarily guilty, but the feeling disappears almost right away. "So, because I forgot to tell you one thing, now I'm a liar? Jesus, Quinn, how do you go from that to this? It's like you're-"

Quinn turns to Jake. "You know Santana thinks I should go to therapy?"

Jake looks at his sister. "Therapy doesn't work, Santana. You know that better than anyone."

"Jake, just because it didn't work for you-"

"It didn't work for you, either."

Quinn is looking back and forth between the two of them.

"Santana, you never told me you went to therapy."

Santana shrugs. "I didn't think it was relevant."

"Yeah, for some reason, you never think telling me anything is relevant."

"Quinn, I'm sorry I'm not your ex-husband, sharing every detail of my private life with you."

"We're a couple, you're not supposed to have a private life."

"What kind of ridiculous middle-ages notion is that?"

"It isn't, it's just how a marriage is supposed to work."

"Yeah, cause yours worked out so well."

"Well, this one isn't doing so hot, either."

Jake stands and puts his hands up. "Whoa, whoa. Do you guys seriously do this all the time?"

"No."

"Yes."

He rolls his eyes and grabs Quinn's hand. "Santana, you go for a run. Quinn, you're coming with me."


	30. Chapter 30

Quinn doesn't know of a single place that will be open at two in the morning, except for maybe McDonald's or Denny's or Walmart, and none of those sound like places she'd like to be in right now, or that Jake would frequent. Well, maybe Denny's.

Instead, they end up walking a few blocks downtown, all the way up to the steps of a Catholic church. Quinn's not a Catholic, nor is it a religion she's ever been familiar with. She's never even been inside one of their churches, it's something Judy always frowned upon, but Quinn assumed it was because she was just jealous of their grand architecture.

"Jake, are you insane?"

She realizes it was probably the wrong question to ask when it's too late, but Jake just puts a finger to his lips and pushes the door gently. To Quinn's surprise, it creaks open, and they sneak in through just a crack, although she's not sure it's sneaking.

There isn't a living soul inside, and she asks Jake as much, in a whisper. He shakes his head as they take seat on one of the front pews.

"Catholic churches are usually open, twenty-four seven."

"But, why? Won't people steal stuff?"

"I'm sure they put away all their valuables. Plus, you've gotta be pretty desperate to come here this time at night. Last thing on your mind would be stealing shit."

"Are we pretty desperate?"

Jake shrugs. "You tell me."

"But don't homeless people—"

"I'm sure they do, from time to time. But that's supposed to be the point of churches, isn't it? They're the house of god. If you can't go to his house, whose house can you go to?"

"You believe in god?"

"No."

Jake looks around the altar, the impressively high ceilings, the ornate decor of the nave. Quinn, too, takes them in in wonder. She could live here it's so pretty, she thinks, before realizing that's probably the most sacrilegious thought anyone's ever had in a church.

Jake scoffs. "I doubt that. And stop whispering."

Quinn wonders if she's beginning to lose sense of what she says out loud and what stays in her head.

"This was the last place I came to, 'fore they locked me up," Jake says.

"In the hospital?"

"No. Jail. From jail they took me to the hospital."

"And it doesn't make you angry, being here?"

"No. It makes me calm. It always made me calm."

"Even when there were people around?"

"We never came to mass or anything. My grandparents brought me all the time when no one was around, maybe hoping it'd shake the devil off me or something. Didn't work, obviously."

"Did Santana ever come?"

"Whenever they made her. She hated it."

"I never even knew you guys were Catholics."

"We're not. I mean, it's how we were raised, but neither of us believe any of it."

"Then why are we here?"

Jake shrugs. "Some of the only nice, quiet memories I have are from this place. Plus, it's chill. I thought you could use chill."

"Santana's the one who needs to chill."

"That's why she went running."

"She gets running, I get church."

"Running is her church. It's time she gets to spend alone."

Quinn sighs. "Of course it is. She's so detached, Jake. She never tells me anything. All I know about y'alls childhood I found out from other people. It's like she doesn't think I need to know."

"Why do you need to know?"

"Because she's my wife. I want to know about her."

"Not everyone's into over-sharing, Quinn."

"There is no such thing as over-sharing when you're married."

"You shouldn't let it bother you so much."

"Well, it does. I feel like I've given every detail of my life to her, and she's holding back."

"So you expect to be paid back?"

"It's not that."

"That's what it sounds like."

He sighs. "What do you want to know? I'll tell you. Cause she's just like her mother. She never will."

"Her mother?"

"Yeah."

"Wait. You mean Maribel wasn't your mother?"

"No. You didn't know?"

"I don't know anything, Jake. I sort of married your sister accepting the fact that the only things I was ever going to know about her were the ones I found on Google."

"What did you find out?"

"Uh, Maribel Avner was some sort of socialite from the south? My mother knew her family, actually."

Jake nods. "She was an only child, a wild thing. Wanted to be a painter or a musician or some shit. Her parents died when she was nineteen, left her a fortune she was incapable of managing."

"And what about your mother?"

"She was some bitch who apparently thought I'd be better off with my father, so she left me with him. Maribel brought me up. If you can call it that."

"She wasn't good to you?"

"It's not that. She was just... an awful mother, but it wasn't because she wasn't my own, you know? She was the same with Santana. She was an artist. Family was the last thing on her mind."

"And your dad?"

"Dr. Miguel Lopez."

"Your dad was a doctor?" All of sudden, Santana, Jake and even Jaeger, are all starting to make sense, right before Quinn's eyes.

"He was before he met Maribel."

"And then?"

The only reason Quinn feels comfortable asking questions is that Jake seems completely absent from this story. Almost as if he had lived it, re-lived it, told it, and retold it so many times that it has now lost any meaning for him. Almost as if he wasn't talking about his own life.

"They took his license away. All him and Maribel did was party, drink and do drugs. Dragged us with them a lot, all over the country."

"And at one point, here I was, actually thinking Santana was an army brat and that's why she was scared of flying. Oh, Jake. I'm so sorry."

He shrugs. "We had some good times. There was a creek they used to take us to all the time-"

"Of course. The tiger beetle."

Jake grins. "See? She did tell you some stuff."

He takes off his shirt as he keeps talking, there, in the middle of church, and Quinn wonders what god, if he did exist, would make of this.

The tattoo is in between his shoulder blades, exactly like Santana's, only larger.

"They spent at least a quarter of Maribel's cash, would have spent all of it if Miguel hadn't died. I assume you read about that, too?"

Quinn nods. "And Maribel only lasted a couple more years after that."

Jake nods as he puts his shirt back on. "She never could deal with his death. So Miguel's parents, our grandparents, took us in. The house we live in used to be theirs."

"What were they like?"

"Strict. They had a lot of rules. I guess they were trying to give us some structure, but it was too late. By then, I was already... weird. They could tell, and they didn't like it. Santana couldn't wait to leave. She got a scholarship and went as far away as possible, even modeled part-time to put herself through college-"

"But Maribel's money..."

"She refused to touch it."

"Even then? Why?"

Jake shrugs. "I guess it was her way of proving to my parents that she didn't need them. That she never did and that she never would."

"But they were dead, why does it-"

"Our grandparents were in charge of our trust fund. After she went away to college... the thing with me happened."

"Oh."

"She felt guilty, for leaving me. Sometimes I think she still thinks I wouldn't have done what I did if she'd been here."

"But-"

"Yeah. I know. I was already sick. There's nothing anyone could have done. She blamed my grandparents, too. Still, when they died, they left her everything. Except half the house."

Quinn leans back in her pew and thanks god she never goes to church anymore, she'd forgotten how uncomfortable these things were. "I can't believe Santana never told me this."

"There's more."

"Of course there fucking is." Her hand flies to her mouth, she just cursed in a church, but Jake isn't even looking at her.

"Quinn, Santana signed all of her inheritance away to me as soon as I came out of the hospital."

"What?"

"She has nothing now. Except her job, and her half of the house."

A couple weeks ago, Quinn would have been enormously upset. Now she's just curious. "But... why?"

Jake sighs. "For exactly the reason my grandparents didn't want me to have it. Because I'm clinically insane and unable to care for myself."

But right now, sitting next to Jake, Quinn feels like she's never met a more normal human being in her life, and she understands Santana. That money feels dirty, even to her. Plus, Jake will probably need it more than they ever will. She puts around an arm around his shoulders, but he jumps and she moves it away quickly.

"Jake, there's nothing wrong with you. Nothing wrong with you that isn't wrong with everybody."

"Quinn, everybody wasn't in jail because they shot someone."

"It was an accident. And besides, I'm beginning to think you're even more normal than I am."

Jake smiles sardonically. "Which isn't saying a lot. No, Quinn. Don't fall into that trap."

"What trap?"

"Of making yourself think you're crazy. Because once you go down that road, there's no way back. You'll never be able to convince yourself otherwise."

"So you don't think-"

"That there's something wrong with you? Yeah. But not what's wrong with me. You're just depressed, maybe. Anxious. Nothing some pills wouldn't cure."

"You take pills."

"Yeah, but have you seen the massive cocktail I have to down each morning? You don't want that. And that's is hardly the worst of it." He shakes his head. "You're healthy, Quinn. Sad, but healthy."

"I get so afraid sometimes. That something really is wrong with me."

"That's because you don't understand what it's like to be sick. It's like I live in a world, far away. I'm never going to inhabit the world you live, experience life the way you do. I'm always going to be light years away from everyone else. I'm out in space, floating by myself, and it will always be this way. No other human being will ever be able to touch me or even come close to me, no matter how much I want them to come into my realm, no matter how hard they try. Just ask Santana. There's a barrier there that can never be broken. I'm going to live in my own mind forever."

Quinn holds Jake's hand across the church bench. Again, a reflex. This time, he actually lets her fingers linger there a couple of seconds before pulling away.

...............................................

When Quinn walks back into the kitchen, hours later, the sun is about to rise again. Jake goes straight to his room without a word, but Santana is still sitting there, hair a little sweaty and disheveled, but otherwise, looking like she never left. There are two cups of coffee in front of her, and she pushes one across the table to Quinn, who sighs, reminded of old times, and takes it.

"I know now," she says, as she takes a sip.

"I know you do. I asked him to tell you."

"When?"

"When we were here earlier."

"But how? I was here the whole time."

Santana just shrugs. They both sip on their coffee and look across the table at each other.

"So, you know we're pretty much destitute now?"

"Yeah. Pretty much."

"And you're still up for it?"

"Up for what?"

"For us. For this."

Quinn had once wondered, if what had attracted her to Finn at first had been not his personality, but his lifestyle, and everything that came along with it.

Right now, looking at Santana across the table, she has no doubt she would live with this woman under a bridge. She gets up and sits on her lap, then plants a kiss on her lips.

"You're so stupid. I should be offended you're even asking me that."

Santana kisses her hair. "I know. I'm sorry. Wanna watch the sunrise?"

Quinn nods, and they hold hands until they're outside, where Santana leans back on Quinn's grandmother's antique bench, now back where it belongs. Quinn, sits between Santana's legs and leans back against her chest, also where she belongs.

"Santana?"

"Yeah?"

"Why couldn't you tell me all of this yourself?"

Santana sighs. "Hon, how does one even begin to tell a story like that? Especially when it's about yourself? Plus, it doesn't hurt Jake to tell it."

"I told you mine."

"I know, and I know it wasn't any easier. But it's just, I don't know, more in your nature, Quinn. Sometimes I think you think that because I grew up in a dysfunctional family, being part of a normal one is going to make me... I'm not going to change anymore than Jake is, Quinn. This is the way I am."

.................................................

Tina calls sometimes, not often but regularly, the only person from their old life, aside from Judy, who keeps in touch with them anymore. It miffs Quinn a little, that friends she had since childhood can't even bother to pick up the phone or send her a message, and Tina, who barely knew Santana, cares more than anyone else back home does.

Then again, Quinn thinks, she never calls or frequents those same childhood friends anymore, because she can't and they all know why. She's fallen into disgrace, fell into it the moment she fell out of love with Finn. They don't want to know about her life with another woman, and maybe Quinn doesn't want them to know either.

Tina calls to ask about Santana's life, maybe out of curiosity, or maybe because she still has no one else to talk to; Santana gets the sense she's as lonely as ever. She doesn't particularly care about Tina's life, she's too busy with her own now, but she let's her talk, let's her ask.

"What's it like, to love children that aren't yours?"

It's the morning of Thanksgiving and the children are baking cookies in the kitchen. They know how to do it alone now, no help required, which is a relief for both Santana, who would hate it, and for Quinn, who's probably still awful at it.

Santana's sitting on their barely used living room couch, phone against her ear, listening to Tina's question, when they kids show up. They present her with a tray full of cookies, Daisy bouncing on the balls of her feet with pride.

"Pick one of mine, pick one of mine!"

Santana wishes she knew which ones were Daisy's, and she really does want to pick the right one, so she just asks. "Which ones are yours?"

Daisy points to a few pale blue cookies that look like snowflakes, multicolored sprinkles and fingerprints on them, and the boys don't seem to mind.

Santana grabs one, hoping it won't crumble in her hands. She's prepared to pretend, to defend Daisy's thrilled grin at all costs. She expects the cookie, for some reason, to be salty, but it's delicious, and she knows she will never eat a cookie like this one again, ever. Daisy hugs her and Santana feels it, awkward in her bones, probably because no one ever showed her how to be affectionate, but she tries to hug her back.

She swallows the cookie and gets back on the phone. "Tina, these kids are teaching me everything.

................................................

"No, he wasn't!"

"Yeah, he was. Why are you acting like it's that bad anyway?"

"Because it is bad, Jaeger. Why are you acting like it isn't?"

"Lots of people are in there for shit they didn't even do."

"Yeah, but that's not what you said. You said he shot someone."

"Because he did. Why would I make that up?"

Daisy is just looking back and forth between them. Before Nugget's death, this would have made her cry, but now, nothing much does anymore.

Their argument inevitably draws Quinn, Santana and Jake to the backyard. None of them think they've ever seen these two have even the slightest of disagreements, so, naturally, they're concerned.

The boys voices quiet down as soon as they see them approaching.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," says Elliott quickly, in exactly the same manner Jaeger would have, and looking at his brother fiercely. But Jaeger is looking back at him too, not backing down.

"Why don't you ask them, Elliott, if you're so convinced I'm lying."

"Shut up, Jaeger."

"If you wanna know so badly-"

"I don't wanna know. I never even asked you. You were the one-"

"How was I supposed to know you didn't know-"

"Yeah, and when I asked you to stop talking, you didn't, even though Daisy's here and she's not supposed to be hearing these things."

Jaeger glances at Daisy, who shrugs like she could care less. "Daisy doesn't even give a fuck-"

"All right, all right," Santana interrupts. "That's enough."

Jake turns to Daisy. "What is it you don't give a fuck about?"

Santana groans a little. "Jake, really?"

"That you were in jail."

Jake crouches down to Daisy's level and tries to look her in the eye, as difficult as it is for him. "Do you really think I was in jail?"

Daisy nods. "Jaeger wouldn't lie."

"Did he tell you why I was in there?"

"He says you shot someone."

"And you really don't care?"

She shakes her head. "He says you didn't do it on purpose."

"I didn't."

Daisy nods again. "I believe you."

Elliott is looking paler and paler the further this conversation goes, like he's the only one who truly understands the gravity of the situation. He pushes Jake aside and grabs Daisy by the shoulders.

"Daisy, you can never, ever, tell Daddy about this, OK?"

"Why not?"

Jaeger cuts in. "Because it would mean we would never get to live together again."

"Yeah, which is exactly why we thought it best not to tell them, Jaeger," Santana says, irritated with her son.

"Well, mom, maybe if you had told me that was your plan, I would have been careful not to say anything. Since when do you keep shit from me anyway?"

Santana and Quinn exchange quick glances and Jaeger rolls his eyes. "Of course."

Jake turns to his nephew. "Jaeger, you're being a little prick."

"No. Everybody's just mad because I'm the only person here who tells the truth."

"A truth that nobody asked you-"

"No, he's right," Elliott interrupts. "If somebody had just brought this up from the beginning, this wouldn't have happened. But all of you just insist on lying to us."

Quinn sighs. "Elliott, I thought you were too young-"

"No, I'm not. Daisy probably is, but it's too late for that now."

Jake turns to Elliott and there is something like commiseration in his eyes. "Elliott, if you have a problem with me living here, if you feel unsafe, I assure you other arrangements can be made. I don't have to live here if it makes you feel uncomfortable or-"

Elliott takes a step forward and grabs Jake's hand. "I'm not afraid of you. I'm not even mad at Jaeger. I'm just upset everybody thought they had to lie to me like I'm some little-"

Jake lets go of his hand and nods. "You're right. I'd be mad, too. What do you want to know?"

"Jake," Quinn interrupts, "you can't-"

"It's my story."

"Yeah, and he's my son."

Santana puts her hands on Quinn's shoulders. "We're a family."

They all sit in the shade, by the tree where Nugget's buried, and for the first time since Jake came into the house, Quinn gets the feeling that that's indeed what they are.

It's almost like they're having a picnic, only it isn't, because people in picnics don't talk about being sick and about guns and panic and about being shuffled from one institution to the next because no one knows what's wrong with you or where to put you. Jake was a child, Quinn thinks, almost as old as she was when she first married Finn, and maybe it was the same thing that happened to both of them; life and people rearranging them like they were things, because no one, not even themselves, ever knew where they belonged.

............................................................

"But the notion that you belong somewhere is ridiculous."

"I belong with your sister."

Jake raises his eyebrows. "That's a hell of a dangerous thing to think. Even I know that."

"Why?"

"Because, didn't you think you belonged with your ex-husband at some point? What was his name again?"

"Finn."

"Yeah, Finn. Didn't you think you belonged with him? That you were in love with him?"

"Oh, Finn was... he was the first guy I had a crush on. My first love."

"But..."

"But he wasn't what I expected."

"He?"

"Well, not he. He's actually pretty wonderful. I guess marriage in general wasn't what I expected."

"Marriage, or love?"

Quinn shrugs. "I don't know. Both, maybe?"

"And yet you expect it to work with my sister?"

"Oh, Jake, it was completely different with her. Right from the beginning, it was different."

"Yeah, you both cheated on your husbands, for starters."

"He wasn't her husband."

"Fine. You cheated on yours."

"Yeah. Which was so out of character for me you don't even know. Santana, she... Jake, it was like... it was like I let love drive me insane. Can that happen? Can love make you crazy?"

Jake shrugs. "Don't ask me. I've never been in love, and I'm already crazy enough as it is."

"Really? You haven't?"

"No. And you're not really making me want to be."

"Oh, Jake, sometimes I wish I'd never been either. Not with Finn, at least. Then I wouldn't have hurt him so badly. But I really thought he was... everything."

"It's never good, building something up so much."

Quinn shrugs. "I just wanted to be happy. And I thought he was my happiness."

"Another person can't be your happiness, I'll tell you that much."

"I guess not."


	31. Chapter 31

Quinn packs her clothes excitedly into a hot pink and orange striped suitcase as she watches her favorite reality show. Her own mood surprises her; she normally hates any notions of luggage and packing; thus the extravagant suitcase, a futile attempt to make herself happy.

It is also rather disheartening to find that a lot of her old clothes no longer fit, but the dress she bought with Santana the day before sort of soothes, if not completely quiets, that particular anxiety. It is a floor-length ball gown with a one-shoulder braided strap; a fabric that flows instead of hugs in dark and iridescent hues; blue, green, purple, gold.

As for the rest of her clothes, well, she might need a new wardrobe now, either that or a gym membership. Neither of the two sounds the least bit appealing; the first because she doesn't think they can afford it, at least not the kind of clothes she's been accustomed to wearing since she was a toddler. It would also mean having to accept her new shape, and that's something she's not prepared to do, because it would be as good as agreeing to stay like this. The second is that she can't imagine joining a gym full of strangers who will be gossiping about her the way she used to about other people.

It's easy, when all you wear are robes and sweats, to lose track of your weight; just as easy as it is to lose track of your life. It's not that there is so much of it or that she's any less beautiful for it, but more that she feels unfamiliar and uncomfortable in her own body. Taught by Judy to take care of herself from an early age, she never imagined it'd be so easy to put on weight, didn't notice it happening until Jake pointed it out that first time (Santana would never) and even after, she managed to avoid the subject in her mind altogether at least for a few more months.

She's eating healthy now, they're all trying to, but the fact is that the weight refuses to come off. She goes back and forth between hating herself and feeling defiant; a rebel fighting against the one cause she believed in her whole life. She even sneaked a bite at one of Jake's steaks the other day, after not having meat for years, and found it so comforting and satisfying that the guilt of it stayed with her for days. It's almost as if, after years of trying to control everything, she's now let go, and this has gone with it.

She packs a couple of things that still fit, figuring she needs to look her best in order to feel her best, going mostly for flowy dresses that won't show her stomach or thighs but still make her feel dressy and look classy. At least that's what Santana says, and Quinn finds it much harder to hold a grudge against her own body when her wife is around.

Santana hadn't wanted to buy anything for herself when they went shopping, though Quinn thought she would look killer in a red dress. But Santana, who has all the patience in the world to shop with Quinn for hours, turns out to have none for herself.

They don't know what she's going to wear, even though it's an important day. Quinn has the feeling if it wasn't for her, Santana might show up in her work clothes just to try everyone's patience, but knows her wife loves her too much to do that. They'll probably end up buying something last minute, the way Santana has done her whole life, and honestly, by this point, Quinn doesn't mind anymore.

It's tough packing other clothes for Santana too, because her wardrobe consists mostly of either lab coats or formal suits, or really, really nice clothes that she refuses to wear because they remind her of Sam. Quinn wonders why she even bothered saving them; she constantly has to persuade her not to donate them to Goodwill, in hopes that one day, god knows when with the way things are going, she'll be thin enough to wear them herself and re-signify them in her wife's eyes.

As for Daisy, Elliott and Jaeger, they have all insisted they are old enough to pack their own clothes. She trusts Daisy and Elliott, but can't say she's not afraid of Jaeger's wardrobe choices; Santana, who has no interest in her own looks, has purchased some pretty extravagant pieces for her son over the years. To appease Quinn's nerves, though, Santana's bought him and Elliott matching suits for the wedding, so at least he can't show up under-dressed to that. She also bought Daisy a dress; a darling, golden thing that Quinn wishes she could wear herself.

She's amidst all this when she hears the phone ring; Santana's welcome voice on the end of the line. It's weird, she's usually too busy to call unless it's an emergency, but she sounds calm, and Quinn's always happy to hear from her wife.

"Hey, baby."

"Hey. What are you doing?"

Quinn turns down the volume on the TV and sets the phone on speaker. "Packing."

"I was afraid of that."

"Don't worry, I promise I'm not packing any of the clothes you—"

"It's not that. Quinn, see, I…something came up and... I don't think I'm gonna be able to... go."

Quinn's voice instantly turns cold. "Something came up?"

"See, Dr. Wu, she says hi, by the way—"

"Hi," Quinn says, automatic.

"Well, we got a new assignment this morning and it's—"

"More important than my children going to their father's wedding, apparently."

"Quinn, we can find a way-"

"You know I can't fly on my own. And there's no way I'm sending them by themselves. I can't believe you'd do this to me, Santana."

"I didn't know you wanted to go to Finn's wedding so badly," her wife says quietly.

"It isn't that."

"Then what is it?"

"This was supposed to be our first vacation as a family."

"We'll go on vacation when this is over. I promise, I-"

But Quinn doesn't hear the rest of it, because all of sudden she's so irritated, she hangs up the phone and tosses it across the room.

It keeps ringing off the hook for the remainder of the morning, but Quinn doesn't pick up. Instead, she turns the volume on the TV back up and goes back and forth between lounging on the bed and halfheartedly unpacking.

When the ringing finally stops, the door to her bedroom swings open. It's Jake, entering in his usual fashion, the one that used to annoy her so badly, but that now that she no longer expects a knock, just seems familiar.

"So, I hear we're going to a wedding?"

Quinn frowns at him. "Not anymore, we're not. Santana canceled."

"I know. She just called. In case you missed the phone ringing for the past two hours."

"I didn't."

"Well, she was calling to tell you I'm going with you."

Quinn looks at Jake, slightly open-mouthed. They had invited him, begged him to come, not only Santana and the children, but Quinn too, and he had refused.

"I thought you hated weddings."

"I can make an exception."

"You said being around so many people was bad for your nerves."

"It's just one night. I'm sure I'll be fine."

Quinn glances at her half-empty suitcase. "What did she have to offer you for you to agree to this?"

"You really think she had to offer me anything?"

Quinn shrugs.

"You think there's anything in the world I wouldn't do for her? You know there isn't."

"I don't know shit."

"Yeah, you do. You feel the same way."

Jake sits down on the bed, grabs the remote and begins flipping through the channels.

"So, help me pack?"

This makes Quinn laugh, in spite of herself. "Jake, you own, like, two things."

He laughs, too. "We're gonna have to get me a tux."

............................................

Jake has never owned, or even worn, a suit, much less a tux, in his whole life.

"Really?" Quinn asks, genuinely shocked, partly because his sister owns so many formal clothes and also because the only other man's closet she ever went through, Finn's, was chock-full of suits and tuxes, and he was an athlete. Her daddy had also owned plenty, and his daddy before him, and, well, even Puck wore a suit to work.

"I grew up practically without access to sunlight and you expect me to have had somewhere to wear a suit to?"

Quinn flinches, even though there's no anger, just incredulity, in Jake's words. "I know, I know. I don't know why I said that. I'm sorry. We'll, just, uh, we'll get you fitted for something."

"That should be interesting. Oh, and just so you know, I've never been to a wedding before, either."

"I figured."

"Not even my own sister's."

"It wasn't for lack of her trying."

"I know. She did her best, but..." He shrugs.

"Why did you say you hated weddings if you've never been to one?"

"Because they look like the kind of thing I'd hate."

"Some aren't so bad. I don't know about this one, though."

"What was yours like?"

Quinn folds a dresses and puts it back inside her suitcase. "Santana didn't tell you about it?"

Jake rolls his eyes. "Not that one. She's told me about that shit a thousand times. Didn't even know she could talk that much. I'm talking about your other one. Your first one."

"Well... it was nothing like the second, that's for sure."

"Why?"

"It was very... pomp and circumstance."

"You're making it sound like it was a circus."

Quinn cringes. "It was the wedding of my dreams at the the time, but... I was twenty. Looking back on it, it probably was a circus."

"I doubt it."

"Why?"

"I don't think anything you did could ever even remotely resemble a circus."

"That's very kind of you, but if you'd actually seen the pictures-"

"I did. Albums are in my room, remember?"

"I always wondered if you went through those."

"Just one. Then I felt guilty."

"Really?"

"No. I got bored."

Quinn sighs. "You have to admit, my dress was beautiful."

"It was. Probably won't age well in pictures, but it was beautiful."

She throws one of the shoes she's packing at him. "Asshole."

...........................................

Quinn insists on sitting next to Jake on the plane ride, so he makes the children sit on the seats across the aisle from them. He's weirded out by it, but doesn't say anything. Maybe she doesn't want to deal with them for the next couple of hours, though he doesn't know how he's supposed to watch over them when Quinn insists on taking the aisle seat as well. Besides, they're old enough to keep themselves entertained. Elliott and Jaeger watch videos on their tablet as Daisy, the ever-pleasant child, stares placidly out the window.

It's not until the plane takes off and he Quinn shuts her eyes and grips his forearm harder than he'd have thought her capable of, that he gets it.

"Wait. You're scared of planes, too?"

"I'm not scared of planes. I'm scared of flying."

By this point, Jake would be shaking off any physical contact, but endures it for her sake, because he knows what it's like to be afraid.

The take off is rough, and Jake feels himself gripping his own seat a little tighter. Quinn opens an eye to glance at him.

"You're afraid, too?"

He shakes his head nervously. "I wasn't before, but I think you're rubbing off on me."

Quinn shuts her eyes again and Jake decides he better too, breathing harshly until they hear a giggle. They open their eyes to catch the children staring at them from across the aisle, barely holding back laughter. Pretty soon, Quinn's giggling too; she never in all these years thought about how ridiculous she must look. Jake cracks up as well, throwing his head back and laughing so loudly that the stewardess has to come and ask them all to be quiet.

...........................................

Willow picks them up at the airport. Jake doesn't know her, but he's the first to spot her; she looks so much like Quinn it'd be impossible not to. Her hair is a disappointing mix of browns and blondes, and Jake frowns when he sees it. "Very California."

She shrugs. "It's where I live."

"I thought it'd be bright green or something."

"Maybe I'm growing up."

"Really?" Quinn asks hopefully.

"No. Grammy asked me to dye it a decent color for the wedding."

"Grammy, or your father's girlfriend?"

Willow rolls her eyes. "Her name's Rachel, mamma. And no. Rachel wouldn't give a fuck."

"Willow, language."

Her daughter ignores this. "She's a hairdresser. She does my hair now, actually."

Quinn realizes, then, how little she knows, how little she has wanted to know, about Finn's future bride. Suddenly, this is all beginning to feel like a bad idea.

Willow and the children are already running toward the car, but her feet feel glued to the floor. Jake pushes her forward. "Come on. We're already here. Let's move."

...................................

The hotel they're staying at is the best in town, very familiar to Quinn, and also ridiculously expensive, but nothing less than she would have expected from Finn. A hairdresser can't make much, but it's obvious he does.

She hasn't wanted to keep track of his career, but knows from Santana, who has, incredibly, taken a liking to watching football now that it's far from her life, that he's become one of the best paid players in the NFL.

They've got three rooms for six people, all on the third floor, far enough from the grand suites where Quinn guesses bride and groom must be staying, since neither of them live here. Quinn wonders what kind of woman would agree to marry halfway across the country, away from her roots and her family, in a place she doesn't know. Everyone says Rachel is like her, but that's something Quinn would have never done.

Jake frowns at her. "But you did do that. You and Santana married in Chicago."

"Yeah, but who was going to attend that wedding? You couldn't, and my family wouldn't. Besides, I had already had my big, fantasy wedding. I wanted something different. But Rachel's never been married."

Willow and the children are waiting on them to decide on the room distribution. Quinn shrugs, not used, or wanting, to make any decisions. Jake just scoffs.

"Pretty obvious, isn't it? Willow can share with Daisy, I'll room with Jaeger, and Quinn and Elliott'll sleep together, like they always do."

Everyone nods in agreement, and Quinn, not for the first time, wonders how Jake can make so much sense sometimes, in spite of his illness.

The kids run to claim rooms and beds, Willow disappears off to somewhere, and Quinn's left in the hallway, staring at her brother-in-law.

"You don't think it's strange I sleep with Elliott?"

Jake shrugs. "Santana and I shared a room until she left for college."

"Really? She never told me that."

"Not something you go around telling people."

"What?"

"That she had to sleep with me because I screamed at night."

"Do you still?"

"Sometimes."

"Santana thinks it's weird. About me and Elliott."

"No she doesn't. Not really. She just wants to sleep with you."

"Jake-"  
"No, I didn't mean... well, maybe I did. You complain about her being detached, but if you don't have sex, how are you supposed to bond."

"Who says we don't have sex?" Quinn's face is bright red, but she's looking at him defiantly.

"It gotta be complicated-"

"We find ways."

"You realize this is the first time you've ever admitted to me you guys actually have sex?"

"Jake, stop. You know we do."

"Can't be that frequent."

Quinn sighs. "It used to be."

"Before I came along."

"No, before Elliott moved into our room."

"So move him out."

"I can't."

"It was just a kiss. I'm sure they're over it now."

Quinn looks at him, wide-eyed. "Santana told you?"

"No, Jaeger did. Said it was a childish mistake. He's over it."

"Oh, I'm sure he is. It's Elliott I'm worried about."

"Why?"

"He's ... like me. He takes things to heart."

"Well, let me tell you one thing. The world's not built for those of us who take things to heart."

"You think I haven't figured that out, Jake?

"You're trying to protect Elliott?"

"Yes, but not in the way... I know I made it seem like it was all Jaeger's fault, but it's not his behavior I was ever afraid of."

"You're scared Elliott's gay?"

"No. I mean, I was at first, before I met your sister, and well..."

"Yeah."

"But now... it worries me that he's feeling too much at such an early age."

"There's no way you're gonna be able to protect him from that."

"Well, I'm not gonna give up. My parents never gave up trying to protect me."

"You sure as hell didn't listen."

"No. But... they never understood me. I understand Elliott."


	32. Chapter 32

It's two a.m. and Jake's playing video games with Jaeger when there is a knock on the door. He opens it without thinking and finds Willow standing at the threshold. She glances at the TV inside.

"I figured you'd be awake."

"You're an insomniac, too?"

"No. I don't sleep because I don't want to, not because I can't."

Jake doesn't appreciate the assumption. "So you thought you'd stop by and chat?"

"What could I possibly have to chat with you about?"

"I don't know. You're the one standing at my doorstep."

Willow sighs like she's in pain. "You need to do me a favor."

"Don't you maybe want to ask me first?"

"How long have you known my mother?"

"A couple of months."

"Long enough for you to know we don't ask, we just demand. Which, from what I've heard, is also a habit of yours."

"Did you also hear I was in prison, in a psychiatric ward, and basically insane?"

"Yup," says Willow, unimpressed.

"And yet you still think I'm the right person to demand a favor from?"

"Trust me, I wouldn't if I had a choice."

Jake sighs, tired of this already. "What do you want? Get to the point."

"I asked my mother to have breakfast with Rachel and I tomorrow."

"Why would you do such a stupid thing?"

"I think it's better if they meet first, without Daddy around."

"There is no way I'm going to-"

"I'm not asking you to come, if that's what you're thinking. That's the last thing I-"

"Then what the fuck do you want?"

"I want you to make sure she shows up."

"Did she say she would?"

"Yes."

"Then why-"

"She raised me, Jake. Believe it or not, I know her."

"Oh, you poor thing," Jake says, refusing to believe that being raised by Quinn could be worse than being raised by no one at all. "How many ballet recitals did she miss?"

"None."

"But enough rock concerts?"

"Didn't show up to a single one. But that's not the point."

"Then what is the point? Because I'm completely missing it."

"I'm not doing this for my health, Jake. You can't imagine how torturous that breakfast is going to be for me."

"Well, I haven't met Rachel, but... yeah. Eating breakfast with your mother is certainly an experience."

"I want her to give Rachel a chance."

Jake snorts. "Not gonna happen."

"It definitely won't if she doesn't even show up."

They're interrupted by Jaeger yelling from inside. "Jesus Christ, Jake, just say yes already so we can get back to our game."

Jake nods at Willow, bored. "Yes."

He's about to close the door on her face, convinced he's not going to get a thank you, when he hesitates. "Why do you think she'll listen to me? Up until a month ago she couldn't stand me."

"I know."

"Then?"

Willow smiles a little, and Jake realizes her smiles are just as hard to come by as Quinn's. "Well, things are different now, aren't they?"

"Jesus, who's telling you all this stuff?" He glances inside the room. "Was it you, Jaeger?"

"Yes," Jaeger yells back impatiently.

"What if I can't get her to go?"

"If you're anything like you say they are, I know you will. Why do you think I asked you and not the kids?"

"What if I don't want to?"

"It's too late, Jake. You're part of the family now."

................................

The morning of breakfast, she's a mess. Well, she's always a mess, her life is a mess, but this morning she feels particularly unsettled. She wakes up hours before she's supposed to; she guesses it's around four but refuses to look at the clock.

She decides not to go, then. She can't go, she barely slept and the circles under her eyes are darker, deeper than usual, even though she took two more pills than she was supposed to. She spends the next few hours pacing nervously around the room, imagining all kinds of disastrous scenarios in her head before she decides to go back to bed.

The thing is, at eight o'clock promptly, Jake is already knocking on her door and inviting himself in. He can tell, just from looking at her, that she's not in the right state of mind. Takes one to know one, he thinks, and he wonders if maybe this is the problem with his sister, if maybe Santana is too sane for Quinn.

He tries to play it cool for her sake. "So, you know what you're wearing yet?"

"Nothing," Quinn mutters darkly.

Jake raises his eyebrows. "Never thought you'd be the kind."

"What, to walk around naked? I'm not. I'm just not going at all. Dressed or naked."

Jake shrugs and begins going through her closet, where her dresses are already neatly hung. He pulls out a white A-line with orange flowers. "How about this?"

"It's hideous."

"You didn't even look at it."

"I've been going through that closet since four in the morning, Jake. Everything in there is hideous."

Jake sighs and flops face down on the bed, where Elliott is still asleep. "Quinn, don't do this to me. You know I don't know shit about clothes."

Quinn frowns at him. "What is it to you, if I stay or go?"

"Honestly?"

"Duh."

"Willow asked me to convince you."

"She did?"

"Yeah. But I wouldn't be here if I didn't think you should go. And you know Santana would too."

"She should have come, then. She could have gone with me."

Suddenly, here eyes are alight with an idea and she turns to Jake, but he shakes his head immediately.

"No way. You're on your own."

"Why?" Quinn whines.

Jake raises his eyebrows. "You seriously need me to explain it to you?"

Quinn sighs and shakes her head. She sits down on the bed, taking care not to sit too close to Jake.

"I don't know what to wear. I don't know how to do my hair. I don't know how to do my makeup."

"I thought you were an expert at doing that stuff."

But it's like all of sudden, she's forgotten, and she just shrugs, lost.

Jake nods. "OK. That's fine. We can do all that."

Quinn snorts. "Right. Who? You?"

"Oh, that's right. I forgot you were opposed to him doing it."

"What the fuck are you talking-"

But Jake is glancing at the boy on the bed. Quinn glances at him too, fondly.

"Are you desperate enough?"

"It's not about that."

"Then?"

"Am I selfish enough to wake my sleeping son-"

"Screw sleeping. He'd be thrilled and you know it."

"No."

But Jake is already poking Elliott awake. "Hey, punk, get up."

Elliott rubs his eyes and rolls over on the bed. "What is it?"

"We need your help."

He sits up suddenly and looks back and forth between them. This is the first time anyone's asked him for help, and the fact that it's two adults doesn't escape him either. "You do?"

"Yeah. We need you to do your mother's makeup. And it needs to be fast. She has somewhere to go."

"But mom said-"

"Fuck what she said. Just get her shit."

Elliott nods, and, wide-eyed, goes off to find Quinn's makeup kit while Jake sits her down on a chair in front of a mirror.

"And I am going to do your hair," he says, tousling Quinn's matted locks.

Elliott looks at him doubtfully. "Do you know anything about hair?"

"No, but you do. You can tell me what to do. I mean, how hard can it be?"

"Not very. Not for me, at least," Elliott admits, handing him a curling iron with a shrug.

Quinn doesn't miss the way her son's hands tremble when they come close to her skin for the first time. She lays two fingers on his wrist. "Baby. It's OK."

Elliott looks into her eyes and she can read the question there. It's strange, but she has an answer for it now.

"It's OK. It was always OK."

...........................

Thirty minutes later, with Jake's fingers burned to the point where he is sure the damage will be irreparable, they have her ready to go and looking more decent than she has in months, at least from the neck up. Quinn looks down at her fluffy slippers and sighs. "Can't I just wear my robe?"

Elliott looks at her oddly. "But mom, your dresses are so pretty."

"I don't wanna wear a dress."

"Then don't," Jake pipes up.

"I didn't bring anything else."

"You didn't bring any pants?"

"No."

"Why?"

She doesn't know that she would ever admit this to anyone but these two. "Because none of them fit me anymore."

If anyone understands, it's Elliott, who's been chubby all his life, so he hugs his mother. Jake, who has a six-pack without even trying, doesn't understand at all. "Did you bring tights or something?"

Elliott looks at him in distaste. "You mean leggings?"

Quinn nods. "Yeah. I brought leggings."

"Good. Wear them with one of my t-shirts, then."

Quinn rolls her eyes, but Elliott is smiling. "Actually, that could work, mom."

He pulls a leather belt from one of her dresses as Jake races to his room and comes back with an over-sized t-shirt featuring some rock band. They slip it on her and tie the belt around her waist. Elliott touches up her makeup, paints her lips a bright red.

Quinn checks herself out in one of the full-length mirrors and sighs. "I look like Willow."

Jake nods. "You look hot."

His words fall flat, but Elliott's grin, reflected in the mirror, is the most sincere compliment Quinn needs. She looks at herself, at her own body, straight on and without flinching, for the first time in months. This is not what she likes, it's so different from anything she ever thought she would like, but it's still the best she's looked in ages.

She turns around to look at Jake. "Snap a picture."

"What for?"

"For your sister, duh."

Jake does, hits send on his phone. Santana replies back right away, and Jake reads her message aloud. "You look hot."

Quinn grins. Those words she'll believe.

......................

The fact that her daughter is making decisions about Quinn's own life baffles her, but she lets herself be led, as usual. The one thing Willow lets her have a say in is the place where they will meet. Quinn knows it's in order to make her feel comfortable; this is where she grew up, she could pick any place and it'd be familiar, while for Rachel, nothing will be. Willow seems to like Rachel, and Quinn wonders why she would put her through such a thing. It isn't until after she meets her that she understands.

Rachel is the kind of girl that will fit in anywhere, even the country club, the place Quinn picked for breakfast. It is actually Quinn who feels uncomfortable and wonders how she could have chosen such a stupid place to meet up; she's already ran into several people she knows and it's been horribly awkward. But she had been so concerned about making Rachel feel uncomfortable that she had never even given a thought to what she might feel herself. But she might as well get used to it; most of these people, the ones she used to consider friends, will be at the wedding either way.

To top it all off, she's early, sitting by herself in a table on the lawn, everything as beautiful as she remembered, everything making her feel as claustrophobic as she remembered. Except now it's worse, because she can hear people pointing and whispering behind her back, and she suddenly feels her heart go all the way to Chicago, to Santana, and wonders how she could have ever participated in anything like this, without knowing she was going to come to love this woman so much, and wonders if she would have kept at it if they hadn't fallen in love. But there is no way they wouldn't have fallen in love.

It dawns on her, then, that she made her wife's life hell, and for the first time she's truly sorry. She also marvels at Santana's courage, because Quinn is feeling so queasy and cowardly right now that she wants to throw up. Not even her own daughter is on her side; Willow is neutral ground at best.

She gets up, about to leave when she spots Willow and a wisp of a woman in a pale blue sundress crossing the lawn. Rachel looks nothing like Quinn would have imagined, and nothing at all like her. She expected her to be some trashy hairdresser, but instead finds her a delicate, sophisticated, tiny thing. She can see immediately why Finn loves her, but wonders what could have made him think they were anything alike, until she notices a few key details.

The first is the hair. She wears it blonde and styled exactly the way Quinn used to when she was married to Finn. There's not a single hair out of place and Quinn feels a pang of jealousy. She dyed her hair brown so many months ago that now her blonde roots are showing prominently; she hadn't yet been in the mood to dye it again. She's also in need of a haircut; her current one is an unflattering length hovering between not long and not short enough. No matter how hard Jake tried to style it, and he was fairly successful, she still feels like chaos. She wonders how come Santana never mentioned she had looked so unkempt for so long, if she just didn't notice or didn't care or loved her anyway.

Rachel's dress is another thing. It looks exactly like something Quinn would have worn; she's actually not sure she didn't own that exact same dress at one point in her life, when it would have fit. In fact, she supposes Rachel is as she once was; graceful, dainty. She feels heavy and out of place in her clothes, and wonders how Willow manages to pull the look off. Her daughter raises her eyebrows as soon as she sees her; even she's dressed formal today, in pearls and a skirt. It is what Quinn always wanted her to look like, and it angers her, that Judy could convince Willow so quickly when she never could.

Quinn recognizes something of herself in Rachel's behavior and mannerisms too, feels almost as if someone had told Rachel about Quinn and she was attempting a poor imitation of her, but delicately enough as to not make Quinn feel offended, just eerily cognizant and oddly flattered, even though she isn't sure she is that person anymore. She will try to be, though. At least for this week, she decides she will be the Quinn everybody knew, a lady and not this disaster she's become, where the outside finally matches the turmoil she had always known she carried inside.

Rachel stretches out her hand in a warm gesture. "Lovely to meet you. I'm Rachel."

Her hand remains stretched, and, next to her, Willow nudges Quinn. "Mamma, your hand!"

Quinn takes it and realizes she's becoming as rude as Jake, probably from spending so much time with him lately.

They have a seat. "I wasn't doing it on purpose, Willow, I just-"

"It's fine," Rachel cuts in, grabbing a menu. "I'm starving and everything looks delicious. Why don't we just order?"

Quinn decides on her old, usual favorites: eggs Benedict, grapefruit juice and a cup of hot, black coffee, hoping it will bring her some comfort.

Willow frowns at the menu. She was a teenager the last time she saw it but it hasn't changed one bit. Neither has she, apparently, because she still orders a bowl of Fruit Loops, like she used to every week.

Rachel, on the other hand, seems pleasantly overwhelmed by the variety of dishes available and is quick to ask their opinion and that of most of the waiters, waitresses and staff, whom Quinn has known, and over-tipped for years but who are now fawning over Rachel while they pretend not to know her.

Determined to eat southern food, Rachel orders sweet tea, a slice of red velvet cake, a slice of pecan pie, grits, hashbrowns and some biscuits with gravy.

Quinn instantly hates her. Bitch probably doesn't even have to go to the gym, she thinks, and almost chokes on her coffee with laughter, because her attitude as of late is certainly making her new last name proud. Willow stares at her, wondering if her mother's finally lost it, and reminding Quinn, once again and not in a good way, of her own mother. Rachel just smiles beatifically, taking it all in stride.

"Mamma, you never introduced yourself," Willow points out.

"Oh, come on, Willow. I'm sure she knows who I am." But she still stretches out her hand. "Quinn Lopez."

Rachel, unlike her, is quick to take it, and her skin is soft and silky to the touch, like Quinn's used to be, before she had to do chores and dishes.

"So, Quinn, your hometown is beautiful," says Rachel, trying to make small talk.

Quinn looks around. Honestly, since she got off the plane last night, nothing seems very beautiful to her anymore. Not without Santana here, to make her laugh about all those stupid things from the south she used to make fun of. She doesn't love her hometown without her wife here, she probably never did, at least not until Santana came and breathed some life into the place that she had, her whole life, thought was perfect.

"Yeah. It's all right."

"I thought you'd miss it. After being away all this time."

Quinn shrugs. "I'm kind of over it."

"Where do you live now?"

"Chicago. My wife works at the university."

"Oh. Yeah. Of course. I knew that."

"You did?"

It comes as a shock, realizing Finn and Rachel talk about her. But of course, they must, and the thought of it makes her cringe.

"Yeah. Your wife's a... biochemist, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"What an awesome job."

Quinn takes a sip of her grapefruit juice and looks at Rachel skeptically. "Do you even know what it is?"

"Mamma!" Willow hisses. "What in the world is wrong with you?"

"It's all right, Willow," Rachel says smoothly. "I'm pretty sure I know what it is, but I'd love it if you explained it, Quinn."

Quinn ignores her completely and looks at her daughter instead. "Don't you mean, what the hell? Because that's what you would say under regular circumstances. Please don't hold back just because Rachel is here."

"Mamma, you're embarrassing me and you're embarrassing yourself."

It's like they've switched roles, and Quinn would be a liar if she said she wasn't enjoying it. "It's not nice, is it?"

"I was a teenager. That's what teenagers do. You're a grown woman."

If it's supposed to sting, it doesn't, and as a matter of fact, Rachel looks more embarrassed than Quinn, who feels no shame at all.

"Oh, Willow, after all that time you've been spending with your grandmother, one would think you'd know better than to be hashing out your mommy-daughter issues in front of other people. Now is not the time, sweetheart."

Willow looks murderously at her mother, then turns to Rachel. " A biochemist is someone who studies cell samples of organisms..."

Quinn remembers, the first time Santana explained her job to her, and wonders at Willow, wonders if her own career inspires more passion in her than this does. When did her daughter become this cold? Or is this how she always was? Maybe she's been this way since she's been hanging out with her grandmother. Or maybe, a little voice whispers inside her head, she's just like you.

Quinn interrupts her daughter. "The way my wife explained it to me when we met, it has to do with life."

Rachel smile is small, but sincere. "Of course. The chemistry of life."

"But it's about more than that. How to map out life, how to take such a large and unfathomable thing and try to bring it to your level. How to try to understand it. It's about survival, about how to make others live. About how to not die."

Willow rolls her eyes at her mother. "Oh, mamma, you are so dramatic."

But Rachel is nodding. "No. I understand."

"No, you don't. There's no way you can. I don't even understand it myself, half the time, and I'm married to her."

"You're right. But I can try."

Quinn sighs. "Isn't that all any of us can do, ever? Try?"

They eat the rest of their breakfast in silence.


	33. Chapter 33

Finn has set Rachel up with a limo for the week, which picks them up and returns them to the hotel once breakfast is over. Quinn races out of it, and has never been so glad for anything in her life as she is to see Jake in the lobby. She feels like running into his arms but knows he'd never go for it. He does, however, look worried, and isn't even trying to pretend he isn't there specifically to wait for her.

"How did it go?"

"Jake, I don't know how people could say she's anything like me. She doesn't even look like me."

Jake laughs. "Is she hideous?"

"No. She's small and skinny. But her nose is funny."

When Willow and Rachel climb out of the car, the first thing Jake does is laugh out loud and turn to Quinn. "You're right. She looks nothing like you."

Quinn wants to cry with relief, at having someone on her side, and Jake knows this, and, thinking very hard of his sister, manages to wrap his arms around Quinn with tremendous mental effort.

He pulls out his phone and snaps a picture of Rachel as they catch up to them. Rachel opens her mouth as if to say something but doesn't, and Willow looks at him, weary.

"Put the phone down, Jake."

He grins. "Gonna be doing this all week, just so you know."

He puts it down anyway, but not before sending the open-mouthed picture of Rachel to Santana.

Rachel stares at Jake and Quinn suspiciously. Jake is in torn jeans, slippers and a skull and bones t-shirt; a version of something Jaeger would wear. His hair is obviously not brushed or even washed. Quinn realizes with a start that he has looked like this for as long as she's known him, that he hasn't been to the barber's since he left the hospital. By now, the sanity of the two of them must be questionable at best.

When it's time for them to say goodbye, Quinn instantly knows this has been a fiasco, and all thanks to her. She wasn't very nice. Or nice at all. She's regretting her behavior now that Jake's here, the one person besides Santana whose opinion she kind of cares about, mostly because he's an extension of her.

"You did a nice job with Willow's hair," she says to Rachel reluctantly, glancing at her daughter's hair, its intricacies more visible in the light of the chandelier under which they're standing.

Rachel's face lights up. "Thank you! I'm doing my own hair for the wedding. Maybe I can help with yours? Or maybe a haircut for the kids or..."

"For me," Jake says grinning, because she's looking right at him but is too kind to say anything.

Rachel turns to Quinn. "Yeah! And then I can meet your other kid, Sam's son? What's his name? Jaeger?"

"Yeah," Quinn says, thinking this is the worst idea ever.

Rachel looks around. "By the way, where are the kids? I haven't seen them since you got here."

Quinn looks around too, panicking, and realizing, all of sudden, that maybe Jake wasn't the best person to leave them with.

"Oh, I left them in the pool. They've probably drowned by now. But it's OK. Quinn never liked them anyway."

Rachel and Willow's jaws drop, but, after a beat, Quinn laughs. "You asshole. Where are they?"

"Locked inside my room. They were playing video games." He glances at his watch. "Don't worry, it's only been ten minutes, I just-"

Quinn nods, because she knows what he isn't saying. I wanted to come out and wait for you. Or maybe, this was more important. Or, you need me more than they do.

Regardless, it doesn't matter. She's just glad he's here. And for once in his life, he's about to break an awkward silence instead of creating it. He glances at Rachel.

"So, about that haircut... were you serious?"

She grins. "Absolutely. You guys wanna come up to my suite around seven?"

Quinn opens her mouth "I don't think that'd be-"

But Rachel interrupts her. "Don't worry. I promise Finn won't be there."  
......................................

There is no real point to them having three rooms, because they spend most of the time at Jake's anyway. He's playing videogames with the boys, and Daisy and Quinn are asleep on the bed. Willow, who didn't care to join them, left off with the bride somewhere.

Jake's phone begins ringing in his pocket, and he takes the call out into the balcony, not wanting to disrupt Quinn and Daisy.

"Hey, sis."

"What the fuck was that?"

"What?"

"That picture you sent me?"

"Finn's wife."

"Oh." Santana pauses. "She looks nothing like Quinn."

"Acts nothing like her either."

"What do you mean?"

"She's... charming, Santana. There's no way you wouldn't love her. She's like a butterfly, like a star."

He can hear the amusement in his sister's voice. "Sounds like someone's got a crush."

"No, I just didn't picture her being like this. When everybody said she was like Quinn-"

"Jake, the person you just described to me is Quinn."

Jake snorts. "No it isn't, Santana. In what world does Quinn not spend all day in a bathrobe instead of socializing?"

Santana laughs. "That was Quinn before you met her. That's exactly what she was like. A social butterfly."

Jake tries, and fails, to imagine a Quinn that isn't like the one he knows.

"That's the Quinn I fell in love with."

"But... that's, like, two different people."

"Jake, you know better than anyone that that's not just her, it's everybody."

"But I have a feeling she hasn't been that other Quinn for a long time, has she?"

"No," Santana says quietly. "But she might surprise you this week."

"I don't wanna be surprised," Jake says stubbornly.

Santana laughs. "Why not? Maybe you'll like the other Quinn better. I never got the impression that you were particularly fond of the Quinn you know, anyway. "

"And whatever gave you that impression?"

He can practically hear Santana rolling her eyes. "Whatever, Jake. I practically had to beg you to go with her."

He turns around and glances inside, sees Quinn sitting up in bed, shooting him a quizzical smile. Jake waves back uncomfortably and gets back to his call.

"You want to talk to her?"

"I don't know. You think she wants to talk to me?"

Jake shrugs, forgetting Santana can't see him.  
..................................................

He goes out into the hall to get some snacks from the vending machine when he runs into Willow.

"Thanks for the favor, asshole."

"What? I got her to go, didn't I?"

"Yeah, in a totally combative mood. And that outfit?"

Jake shrugs. "I thought if anyone would appreciate it, it would be you."

Willow narrows her eyes at him. "You think I'm a child, don't you?"

"No, Willow. Somehow, I don't get the impression you were ever much of a child."

Willow looks away.

"But you're gonna wind up a Quinn Hudson if you don't watch it, and I don't think that's what you want."

"How the fuck would you know what I want?"

"I don't. But I don't think that's something anyone wants. Not even your mother did. Why do you think she quit that life?"

"Fuck you, Jake. Who the hell are you to be talking all this shit? You're not even related-"

"That's not what you said when you showed up to my room last night."

"Yeah, whatever." She walks off, flipping him off.  
..........................................

Rachel is used to being eight hours in a salon bustling with people, but it still doesn't compare to what's going on in her suite right now. It's a large room, larger than her salon, but even though there are only six of them in there, it still feels crowded.

There are children running, and hair flying around everywhere, and actual hair dye in what she figures must be extremely expensive upholstery. She knows Finn won't mind and she doesn't either, it's just that she wasn't prepared for how overwhelming this whole thing would be. She's dealt with Finn's children before, and found them calm and pleasant, if a little standoffish, but with Jaeger around, it's a whole different story, a whole different pair of kids.

She's known Sam for a while, he's still friends with Finn, though he no longer plays football and he's moved away, too. She was eager to meet his son, and while the resemblance is undeniable, she has a hard time finding anything else of Sam in Jaeger. He's a spitfire, and Rachel whose experience with children is limited, has never come across one as active. It makes her, for an instant, second-guess her until then unwavering desire to be a mother. What if her children turn out like this one?

She pushes these thoughts aside as Quinn takes the kids to play out in the balcony, composed and comfortable even with Jaeger and his boisterousness. Willow had warned her that her mother was barely able to keep it together, and while yesterday, Rachel got that impression, too, around her family, Quinn seems a different person.

"It's nice to see Quinn with the children," she says, as Jake sits down in front of her, ready to get his hair cut. He doesn't say anything, but seems to be having a hard time keeping still. To Rachel, who is used to making small talk and loves it, the moment feels almost unbearably unpleasant, but Jake doesn't seem to feel the same way, or anything at all.

As she's cutting Jake's hair with her shears, accidentally, because he's moving, she snips one of his ears.

"Ouch."

"I'm sorry," Rachel says, mortified. This has never happened to her before. "It's just that you're not staying still and-"

"I can't stay still, didn't they tell you that?"

"Uh, no."

Jake turns around abruptly to look at her and this time, almost gets poked in the eye with the scissors. "Quinn didn't tell you?"

"I've barely talked to Quinn."

"Willow?"

"No."

"Wait. So, you actually have no idea who I am, do you?" This seems to be happening to him frequently enough.

Rachel cringes as she goes back to cutting his hair. "No. Sorry."

"I'm Quinn's brother-in-law. Jaeger's uncle."

"You are?"

"Yeah. Who did you think I was?"

There is no way to mask the look on Rachel's face.

"Oh, no way. You didn't."

"I'm sorry, it's just... you guys were hugging and-"

"And you never hug any men other than your fiance?"

Rachel thinks hard about this. "Only Finn's stepbrother."

"Well, there you go. Quinn's like my sister."

"Yeah, but Finn's brother is gay."

"So is Quinn."

Rachel frowns. "Is she really, though? I mean, she was married to Finn."

Jake shifts in his chair as he looks at himself in the mirror. "Are you done yet? Because Quinn's sexual orientation is the last thing I want to make small talk about."

Rachel gives Jake's hair a critical overview. It's far from being her best work, but it looks fine, way better than before, and she senses she isn't going to get much further with him anyway. "Yeah. I'm done."

He gets up quickly, shaking all his loose hairs onto the floor. "Good. I'll get Quinn."  
...................................

She figures there is only so much she can resist before Jake hauls her over his shoulder and drags her there, so Quinn reluctantly sits down on Rachel's chair. Once he's sure she won't get up, Jake gets the kids and, without warning, makes them exit the room and follows them out, leaving Quinn alone with Rachel, who is sweeping Jake's hair off the floor. She makes sure to break the silence right away.

"So, where's Santana?"

"She couldn't make it."

"Oh, that's too bad. I was looking forward to meeting her."

Quinn snorts. "Yeah. I bet Finn's told you wonders about her."

"Actually, I always got the impression he liked her. In spite of everything."

"They did like each other. But now, I thought..."

"Never heard him say a bad word about her in my life."

"That's like him."

"Yeah. He's a good guy. That's why I was curious to meet your wife. Must be one hell of a woman if you left Finn for her."

Quinn feels whatever was left of her anger at Santana begin to dissipate instantly. "Oh, you have no idea."

"You're a lucky girl, then."

Quinn nods. "Very. And so are you."

Both women smile at each other in the mirror. "I know."

Just then, the door bursts open and Willow enters the room. She eyes them both critically. "What are you doing to her?" she asks Rachel.

"Nothing," Rachel says, immediately backing off.

Willow rolls her eyes. "I meant to her hair."

Rachel realizes she has no idea. "Uh, actually, I don't know."

Willow turns to her mother. "Do you even know?"

"Nope. Jake practically shoved me into this chair, I had no time to think about what I wanted."

Willow rolls her eyes again. "Of course. Well, I'll tell you one thing, you definitely have to get those roots fixed."

Quinn's tired of the brown, but she's not sure how she feels about being a blonde again, especially since Rachel's one, too. "Are you a natural blonde?"

"Nope. Brunette."

Suddenly, an idea strikes Quinn. "Rachel, what are your wedding colors?"

"Uh, yellow and blue. Why?"

"Perfect. You dye my hair blond, highlight it blue."

"Oh, hell, no," Willow bursts out.

Quinn grins. "There's the real you."

"There is no way-"

"Actually," Rachel pipes up, "I think it's kind of sweet."

"Oh, believe me, she's not doing it to be sweet."

Rachel shrugs. "It would look cool, Willow. You know it would."

Quinn smiles at her daughter. "Bet you're sorry you didn't think of it first."

Willow scoffs.

"Or if you did, that you didn't have the courage to go through with it."

"Fine," Willow says.

"Fine? I don't need your permission-"

"I'm not giving you my permission. It's a warning."

"What the fuck do you mean, a warning? You can't warn me, I'm your mother."

"You get your hair dyed like that, I'm getting mine done the same way."

Quinn looks at Rachel. "Hair extensions a possibility?"

"Yeah. If you want them."

Quinn nods as she turns back to look at her daughter's reflection in the mirror. "I guess we'll be matching, then."  
...................................

Two hours later, Jake's concerned. Certain something's gone wrong, he hurries back to Rachel's room, where the half-open door only serves to confirm his fears.

He walks in without bothering to knock and finds Quinn and Willow, with matching hairstyles, sitting in the living room having tea and cookies with Rachel and laughing, both of them at the same time, at something she just said.

He stares at the three of them, open-mouthed. Quinn grins at him and flips her hair. "You like?"

He shrugs, just as dumbfounded. "Yeah. It's alright."  
.................................

The whole week goes by incredibly fast after that. Quinn manages to make it to the wedding day without having had to see or even talk to Finn. She figures he must have been actively avoiding her, too; there is no way they wouldn't have run into each other otherwise.

She has avoided running into anyone she knows, but that's what happens when you don't come out of your hotel room at all. Not even Jaeger's father, who arrived the day before, has shown any interest in seeing his son, which is odd but nevertheless welcome.

She manages to keep it this way until the wedding reception, by sending Willow and the children to the front pews of the church during mass, and sitting way in the back with Jake. Her mother is glaring at her from somewhere in the middle, still not ready to forgive her for what happened to Willlow's hair. Her father is nowhere to be seen, and, like Sam, has shown no interest in seeing his only child. It hurts, but she's getting used to it.

When they walk into the reception, late, of course, Sam is the first person they run into. Quinn only recognizes him after she hears Jaeger yelling "Dad!" and sees him running to hug a man that looks nothing like the one she remembers.

He is thin and drawn, serious. There is nothing left of the built football player she used to know, almost as if his muscles had been sucked into his body. There are dark circles under his eyes, which only serve to accentuate how pale and gaunt he looks, and the suit he is wearing looks cheap and tattered. Some light comes into his eyes when he hugs Jaeger, but dulls the minute he gets a look at Jake.

They scowl at each other and Sam pats his son's head. "Go outside and play, Jaeger."

Jaeger, unusually silent, nods and motions for his siblings to follow him. They do, with grins on their faces, but Jaeger isn't smiling.

Sam, still the gentleman, stretches his hand out to her. "Quinn. Good to see you," he says, without taking his eyes off Jake. Quinn takes it, and swears she can feel every bone and vein. This man is wasting away.

"You too, Sam," she squeaks, trying not to stare. Are Santana and I responsible for this?, she wonders. And why didn't Jaeger even mention it? But the two men are too busy facing each other off to pay any attention to her.

"Not going to shake my hand, Sam, are you?"

"I don't see you trying to shake mine either." At least his voice is still booming and strong, the same.

"I barely recognize you."

"I was hoping you wouldn't."

"Your son, either?"

"Jaeger sees me often enough. He knows what I look like."

"Not lately."

Quinn realizes it's true. Sam still calls Jaeger every day, but hasn't asked to see him in a few months.

"I'm surprised they let you out. You don't seem to have changed much. Still sticking your nose into other people's business."

He side-steps them before Jake can reply, patting Quinn on the shoulder as he walks away. "See you around."

Jaeger comes back as soon as he sees Sam is gone. "Where you guys fighting?" he asks Jake accusingly.

"Did it look like we were?"

"No."

"Then we weren't."

"OK," Jaeger says, accepting his uncle's word without hesitation. Quinn grabs him by the hand before he can run away again. "Hey, Jaeger?"

"Yeah?"

"Is your dad OK?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I don't know. He looks... different."

"No, he doesn't."

Quinn looks up at Jake and sees the almost imperceptible shake of his head.

"You're right, I'm being stupid. Go back to play."

They watch Jaeger run off to join Daisy and Elliott.

"He's a kid, Quinn. He can't tell."

"What do you think happened to him?"

"Who cares?"

"What the hell is it with you two, anyway?"

"Always hated his guts. And he always hated mine."

"How come?"

"He thought Santana spent too much time visiting me. And I always thought he was mediocre asshole who was afraid to let my sister shine."

He doesn't miss the guilty look on Quinn's face. "Please. Whatever happened to him, he had it coming."

"How can you say that?"

Jake smiles. "Easily. Don't I always say the wrong thing? What I'm not supposed to say?"

"But, Jake, I-"

"Don't, Quinn."

"Don't what?"

"Stop finding things to feel bad about. You made the choices you made, and that's that. Stop trying to blame yourself for everything."


	34. Chapter 34

Rachel looks so beautiful even Quinn has a hard time taking her eyes off her. She tries to look at her as often as she can without looking directly at Finn, but she's bound to miscalculate, and does, at one point in the night, when their eyes inevitably meet and she sees him, crossing the room toward her. She grabs on to Jake's hand in a panic, and when he sees who's coming, he squeezes back.

Finn gives both of them the once-over. They too, look stunning tonight, Quinn actually better, healthier with those extra pounds than he remembers her ever looking, and Jake perfectly at home in his new tux, as if he'd worn one all his life. He glances at their joined hands and raises his eyebrows at Quinn.

"Found yourself a new boyfriend?"

"This is Santana's brother."

"I figured. They look like twins. If I was her, I'd watch out for the two of you."

Quinn immediately lets go of Jake's hand and runs outside. She finds a fountain and sits down on the ledge, tears already coming. Finn races after her.

"Quinn, I'm so sorry. I'm an idiot, I just-"

"It's OK, Finn." And, she's surprised to find, it really is.

Through the French windows of the salon, they can see Rachel dancing with two older men. Quinn assumes they must be the two dads she talked about the other day, and wonders how there are so many gay people out there in the world that she had no idea about, living proud and without the shame that she's felt so heavy on her shoulders for so long, and involuntarily changing things, not just for people like her and Santana, but for everyone.

Finn is looking at her, and for some reason thinks she's watching Rachel, maybe because that's what she's been doing all night. It's what they've both been doing all night. He looks at his bride again and sighs. "She is beautiful, isn't she?"

Quinn studies Rachel too, and instead of the mad jealousy she thought she would feel, feels peace. "She is. Wherever did you find her?"

Finn shrugs. "I wasn't even looking."

Quinn nods. "Yeah. That's how it happens."

He smiles sarcastically. "You mean you didn't actively go looking for someone to cheat on me with?" The Finn Quinn had known hadn't even been capable of sarcasm, and she feels the remorse beginning to kick in.

"I thought I was gonna be with you forever, Finn. I really did. My whole life."

"Until Santana came along and convinced you that-"

"She didn't convince me of anything."

Quinn wonders what the best way of saying this is, and decides on something that's usually never her first choice: brutal honesty. "I wanted her. Almost from the start, I wanted her."

"Why didn't you ever tell me you were-"

"Because I didn't know, Finn. Before I met Santana, it wasn't even a remote possibility in my mind. I never pictured myself as anything but your wife." She pauses. "It still hurts sometimes. That it's not going to be you."

Finn sighs. "I know. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm in love with Rachel, but... I was in love with the idea of us for a long time, too."

"She's a much better fit for you. Sane and normal. Delightful. Even I like her, imagine that. She's nothing like me. "

But Finn is shaking his head. "You never understood that, Quinn. I always thought you were perfect."

.................................

Inside, Quinn stands by the dance floor, watching the couples swaying to the rhythm of the music, and tries to remember a time when she was not among them, when she didn't want to be among them. Her hips start moving almost involuntarily, her feet shuffling slightly, when she feels a pair of hands grab her from behind and spin her round. Her heart jumps into her throat, that this might be Finn, wanting to repeat their former glories, and she's not ready, or willing, to do that. But it's just Jake, leading her onto the dance floor gently.

Quinn looks at him incredulously. "You know how to dance?"

"Yup."

"But... how... Don't tell me. You learned in jail."

"How did you know?"

"Lucky guess."

"Hmmm."

Before she realizes what's happening, Jake's dragged her out to the middle of the dance floor, where Quinn stands stock-still, terrified.

"I don't want to."

Jake frowns at her. "But I thought you were good at this."

Quinn stares up at him, bright eyes dimming.

"I... Santana told me dancing was your favorite thing to do. That's why I..."

She feels like she can't breathe with all these people around her. She pushes Jake off and shoves her way past the crowd until she's outside, sitting by the fountain, eyes tearing up again.  
.......................................

If Jake cared what people thought of him, he'd run after her. Instead, he just stands there, not caring that he looks a fool, probably not even aware that he does, too disconcerted to move, knowing he can't go looking her because he doesn't have the right words.

A pair of warm hands grab onto his cold ones and suddenly he's got his arms around another girl and they're dancing, slowly and patiently, and he doesn't even know who it is until he gets a whiff of her perfume and pulls away. He lets go of her hands and takes a step back.

"Willow?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Your mother..."

"She didn't want to dance with you?"

"No."

"That's weird. She's never said no to dancing, as long as I've known her."

Jake shrugs, and Willow offers her hand. "Well, I'm here."

He raises his eyebrows. "Seriously?"

"You want to dance, don't you? Or was it just her you wanted to dance with?"

"They say she's good."

"I'm just as good as she is. She taught me, you know. And we kinda look alike-"

"Kinda?"

"So you can just pretend I'm her. If you squint your eyes hard enough."

This makes Jake laugh. "You're ridiculous."

Soon they're dancing, and Willow was right. Maybe he'll never find out if Quinn can dance or not, but Willow's good, and he tells her so. Her mind, however, is on other things.

"Jake?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"About?"

"What I said the other night."

"What did you say?"

"You don't remember?"

Jake shrugs. "One of the good things about being crazy. I forget things quickly. Must have been bad if you haven't."

"I called you an asshole. I said you weren't part of our family."

"That's not so bad."

"It isn't?"

"I mean, it is, but... it could be worse."

..........................................

Willow has a seat next to her mother on the fountain, unconcerned with getting her pale salmon dress wet or stained. "What's wrong with you?"

Quinn looks into her daughter's eyes and answers honestly. "I don't know."

Willow sighs. "I saw you talking to Daddy earlier. Is that it?"

"I don't know."

"Mamma, please don't tell me you're-"

"Jealous? Don't be ridiculous, Willow. I was the one that left him."

They're silent for a while, listening to the sound of water falling, until Willow speaks again.

"I never thought you'd be brave enough to do it."

"To this day, I don't know where I got the strength."

"I do. And to this day, I admire you for it."

.........................................

Quinn spends the rest of the night at their assigned table, gladly watching Jake dancing with Willow and her children running around, and finds that she likes being an observer as much as she once liked being a participant.

She falls asleep on the table, and around three a.m., Jake hauls her over his shoulder so they can get back to their rooms, because they have to be at the airport in a few hours.

She never knows how they made it, only that Willow and Jake must have done it all, because when she feels like she's recovering consciousness, she finds herself sitting on the plane next to Jake, not afraid at all, and even he's looking at her strangely.

"Did you drink last night?"

"No."

"Did you take pills?"

"No."

"Then what the hell-"

"I don't know, Jake, OK? Do you want me to be fucking terrified, like last time or what?"

"No, it's just -"

Quinn catches her children's eyes, ever-present, watching them from across the aisle and elbows her brother-in-law. "Hush. You're scaring the children."

"No, I'm not. You're the one that's scaring them."

..................................

As soon as she steps off the plane, Quinn is hit with the dreadful sensation of not wanting to go home. She couldn't wait to leave the south, and Finn and the hotel, but now that she's in Chicago, she doesn't want to be here either. She stalls and Jake pushes her along, shooting her a murderous glance and slowing down to whisper in her ear. "What was that you were saying about the children?"

Her sense of dread magnifies once she gets home and spots Santana's suitcase in the foyer. It's a familiar feeling, a sense of foreboding, and she knows at once why she didn't want to come home.

They must be early, but she doesn't even think to ask Jake, just runs into Jaeger's room, desperately looking for her wife, and when she doesn't find her there, she looks in every room, but never thinks to look in her own. She walks in there last, defeated and ready to go to sleep, and finds Santana sprawled on the bed, fast asleep and with a peaceful look on her face.

It brings tears to Quinn's eyes, because she doesn't know when the last time she saw Santana on this bed was, and because she's so used to seeing this woman stressed and busy and in a hurry, that her face, gentle like this, looks like that of someone she knew long ago. It has been a long time, too, since Quinn has given in to the pleasure of watching her wife sleep.

She locks the door and lays down on her side, facing Santana, and just watches, until the way Santana's belly rises and falls gets to be too tempting and Quinn lays a hand on her stomach.

Santana wakes up with a jump, and grimaces upon realizing it's her wife, knowing that Quinn knows, that there is no way she missed the suitcase next to the front door. That's why she put it there, in an attempt to not be like Finn, but at the same time, lacking the courage to put it into words just as he did.

To her surprise, Quinn doesn't say anything but just melts into her arms and burrows her head into her chest and sighs. Santana sighs, too. Quinn's hair smells like Jaeger's shampoo, two of the people she loves most in the world.

Quinn lays on top of Santana, facing her, and looks into her eyes. "Can I take your clothes off?"

Santana laughs. "If you take yours off, too."

......................................

They lay naked in bed after, children and Jake and world forgotten, and Santana nudges Quinn, enjoying the fact that, for once, she isn't trying to cover up.

"Tell me all about it."

Quinn shrugs. "It was alright. Ours was nicer."

Santana laughs. "I bet. With a few hundred less guests."

"I hate guests."

"I thought you liked those kinds of parties."

"You said it. Liked."

"How's your mom?"

"Mad at me."

Santana laughs. "Well, that's new. And Willow?"

"Not mad at me."

Santana raises her eyebrows. "That is new. Did you dance a lot?"

Quinn nods, not knowing why she bothers to lie when Santana will find out the truth soon enough.

"Isn't Jake a terrific dancer?"

Quinn nods again. "Did he really learn in jail?"

Santana shrugs. "If he didn't, I don't know where."

A thought suddenly strikes Quinn, something she'd never thought about before. "Do you think Jake is gay?"

Santana laughs. "No." But then she pauses. "Actually, I have no idea. He might very well be."

They look at each other and shrug, both surprised at the fact that no one really cares if he is.

...................................

Santana's put a TV on the kitchen table since their absence, something she knows Quinn would have never allowed, but knows she's won when they walk in there later that night and find Jake sitting on the floor, laughing his head off at Sponge Bob Squarepants and all her wife can do is laugh with him.

Pretty soon, they're all watching, Quinn leaning back against the wall with her head on Jake's shoulder and Santana sprawled across their laps, laughing, until the show cuts to commercial break, and it's almost like silence falls dull between them. Jake glances at his sister, trying to be conversational.

"So, when are you leaving?"

Santana sits up and looks at Quinn, pained.

"I.. Quinn, I'm going to have to go away for a while."

Quinn doesn't say anything, but Jake isn't going to let it go. "How long is a while?"

"A week. Or two. But listen, Quinn, I talked to Dr. Wu, and as soon as I get back, I promise we'll go on vacation, we'll go to the beach-"

But Quinn isn't even listening, her head still on Jake's shoulder. She smiles at her wife. It's sad, but it's a smile. "OK."

"OK?"

"OK."

....................................

Since he was kicked out of his room so unceremoniously the night before, Elliott assumes it's OK if he goes back to sharing a room with Jaeger. So the next night, with Santana already gone, Quinn finds herself sleeping alone.

Her sleeping patterns have been anything but normal for the past few weeks, but she hasn't had one in a while.

She's at the airport, waiting, waiting for her plane to leave, when she spots her, eyes like golden tear drops, wandering around the room.

"Are you lost?"

The little girl doesn't say anything, just walks up and looks at her own reflection in Quinn's eyes.

"What's your name?"

"Lishbet."

"And your mom's?"

"Queen."

"And your daddy's?"

"Finn."

And then suddenly, Elizabeth fixes her bright eyes on her with curiosity. "What's your name?"

Quinn can feel her own name like an actual object, lodged in her throat.

.............................................

The sound of screaming wakes her, but doesn't scare her. She knows exactly where it's coming from. She makes her way to Jake's room and, without thinking too much about it, gets into bed with him. He stops screaming almost right away, still asleep, and pretty soon, Quinn falls asleep too, staring at the tattoo of the tiger beetle on his bare back.

It's the first time she's seen it.

It's the most sleep she's had in a long time.

She sleeps in his bed every night Santana is out, probably more for her sake than for his, because he isn't the only one that can't sleep alone. Every night, she waits until she knows for sure he's asleep, then slips into his room and leaves before he wakes, before anyone wakes, before dawn breaks.

.....................................

It gets late one night, and she falls asleep in the living room couch, her face buried in Daisy's hair and Dora the Explorer loud on TV, but not loud enough to dull the sound of Jake's yells. She rushes to his room immediately and rubs his shoulders as he blinks himself awake. Quinn doesn't say anything, just curls up behind him, tracing odd shapes onto his back with her fingertips. She doesn't know, if he knows she's been here all those nights, and yet, somehow, tonight knew that she wasn't.

"What do you dream about?"

"Huh?"

"What do you dream about when you scream?"

"Babies that look like monsters."

"Seriously?"

"Yup. You?"

"Me?"

"There's a reason you're here. There's a reason you've been here, every night."

"I dream about my daughter."

"Daisy?"

"No. I... had a miscarriage years ago."

"Oh. Nightmares?"

"They used to be."

"Used to?"

"Before I... before I met your sister. I used to dream of the nurse, telling me over and over that she was gone."

"And now?"

"I dream about her like she's grown. A kid in a playground, or a teenager at prom."

"Doesn't sound that much better."

"Yeah. I guess it really isn't."

..........................................

It doesn't do any good talking about it. It didn't do any good talking about it to Santana, and it doesn't do any good talking about it to Jake. It just moves things in her mind, and even though she's still sleeping with Jake, the dreams keep coming, like Santana leaving gave them permission to flood and attack her unconscious mind, which she feels turning against her, yet again.

She has yet to resent her wife for too many things in life. Honestly, Quinn's never been big on resentment toward anyone but herself, but now, with these dreams and this floodgate, it is easy to blame Santana for not being here to stop it, for creating the absence that caused it. The fact that they're distant, that they have been for a while, strikes Quinn one night, and it is just as frightening as any nightmare.

........................................

"What do you feel when you dream of her?"

"This sickening fear that I'm going to lose her. It's like even in my dreams, I know. Funny thing is, in real life I never did. When you're on your fourth baby and all other pregnancies have been ideal, you never expect... it was the last thing I ever imagined."

...........................................

They meet Santana at a lonely beach town near the place where she was working. The place is so remote Quinn's never heard of it, and she almost wants to say she won't go, because she's never felt less like vacationing in her life, but for the sake of her children, says yes.

To Santana, there is something about the beach that makes everyone and everything seem unappealing, even the idea of romance, the idea of fun, the idea of family. The waves and their mist speak to her of solitude, and when she's near them, she wants to revel in it. She, too, decides to make an effort for the children, and finds a nice hotel filled with people and activities, even when the beaches are deserted.

At the hotel, Quinn finds herself curious about everything that isn't her life, maybe because this time there is nothing to distract her, no wedding, no solitude. She wants to ask the chef making their sushi in front of them where he went to school and if this was what he always wanted to do with his life, but doesn't. Why wasn't I taught to talk?, she wonders. Why am I so afraid of other human beings? She glances at Santana next to her, and wonders if that's true even of her.

Afterward, when they go to the pool and she sits on the sundeck, tanning and watching the rest of her family playing volleyball, she wonders lazily if Jake was ever like her, not wanting to go out or move or maybe even exist. He was practically forced to play by Jaeger and looks awfully uncomfortable and pale in this environment.

Their game ends quickly and abruptly when they are joined by a couple of other kids, and Santana and Jake gladly desert and leave the kids to play water-polo with the other children. They join Quinn on the deck and lay on adjacent beach beds silently. Santana is reading and Jake is beginning to doze off when Quinn sits upright with a gasp. She's pointing across the pool, at a teenage girl who's laughing carelessly as she flirts with a boy her age.

"That's Elizabeth," she says.

It takes a while for the words to sink in, and the first thing Santana feels is a mix of concern and horror. Has she gone mad? On top of everything? Have I really, truly, lost her this time?

But Jake is looking at Quinn with mild curiosity, like he's exploring the possibility that she might actually be serious, or right. "Which one?"

Quinn points again, and Jake looks across the pool, both of them completely unconcerned about the fact that they might be calling attention to themselves, and right now, Santana would be concerned about the mental sanity of the two of them if she didn't know for a fact that Jake's never been at all there. She half-glances at her brother, who shrugs. "She's got the eyes."

Santana allows herself to stare at the girl across from them. She looks to be about sixteen, the best she's ever gonna look in her life, dark haired and tan, and yes, she has Quinn's eyes, but it's not good enough. Not good enough to stop Santana from wondering if she should feel jealous of Finn, that Quinn is still thinking about the last child they conceived together, like she's the salvation she needed, but from what? Her marriage to Finn, or to her marriage to Santana, or what?


	35. Chapter 35

They take a walk on the beach around sunset, per Jake's suggestion; let him stay alone with the kids. There aren't many people around; this ocean isn't for swimming. They didn't even bother to change into beach clothes, just jeans and sweats. Everything is silent, and Santana and Quinn afraid to break the silence.

A tree trunk has washed up ashore and Santana, a few steps ahead of Quinn, goes around it in circles, observing. It's a breathtaking sight; the wood bright red where it has split open. How can I compete with that?, Quinn wonders. She remembers Kitty, complaining about her husband ogling other women, but Quinn's losing Santana's attention to an old piece of wood. But it's not just that, she thinks. It's every tree, every floating butterfly, every wave, like Santana is so in love with the world that there isn't much room left for Quinn, who has not valleys and clouds and the songs of birds to offer.

It gets dark and they get tired, enough to sit on the sand, close to each other but not close enough to touch, the water kissing their clothes, making them heavy. Each busies herself with her own thoughts; the echoing water means they don't have to talk. They wouldn't know what to say if they did, they have nothing to say to each other, except maybe forgive me, but neither would really mean it, no one is really sorry about what's happened.

Maybe if they were truly sorry they would have to apologize to every one, beginning with Finn and ending with themselves, for ever thinking this could work. The thing is, neither of them feels like they owe anyone anything, for taking what life offered, and taking and taking and never leaving anything behind. For taking happiness and taking love and pleasure without regret, for taking with thirst what, at least Santana, felt she'd been given so little of since the time she had set foot on this earth.

Quinn thinks about her life with Santana, and though she wouldn't believe it, her wife is thinking about the same thing. Did we do it all wrong? Did we get our hopes up too easily? Was it selfish? Was it stupid? Am I even in love anymore? Does love even matter? Can you live without it?

"Yes, you can," Santana says out-loud.

Then why do I feel like I'm dying?

Santana watches a group of birds near the shore, the only living creatures near them. Of course, Quinn thinks, even these stupid, common birds are more interesting than her. They are racing the water, racing against the waves, like they're trying not to get their feet wet. A game, a game Quinn would find funny under any circumstances other than this.

Santana taps her on the shoulder. "Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Wanna race?"

"What? Where?"

Santana shrugs. "To the dock."

"OK."

They run with their feet inside the water, not caring that they're getting their clothes wet, not caring that they're not getting very far ahead. Santana knows she'd beat her wife without trying on solid ground, so she goes deeper into the water and nudges Quinn toward the sand, so they're even, and this time they're both trying their hardest, neither too far ahead of the other. Santana feels the cool breeze against her face beginning to draw a smile, and Quinn smiles upon seeing her too, and wider when she realizes she's going to reach the dock first, if only by a few steps. She doesn't slow down, but throws her arm back so that Santana can grab a hold of her hand, and when they reach they destination, Quinn pulls her along, until Santana wraps her arms around her and spins her into the air. They're both laughing and they don't know how it happens, except that next thing Santana knows they've both lost sight of the ground spinning beneath them, and then they're on the sand, a crumpled mess, and Quinn's giggles have turned into a torrent of tears that she can't stop no matter how hard she's trying.

Santana takes a good look at her and knows immediately it's not injury that's making her cry. She's not hurt, but she's sobbing so hard, maybe hoping Santana will think it's because she's in pain, forgetting she knows enough about the subject to tell the difference between a physical ache and one that isn't.

Santana cradles her for what seems like hours, feeling intense pity slowly turning into helplessness and frustration, because Quinn won't stop crying and she can't seem to help, but mostly because she can't for a minute pretend she doesn't know what this is about.

"Quinn, I knew our life was going to be like this. I told you so very clearly."

The statement is enough to make Quinn stop, and pull away from her wife. "But then why did you-"

"Because it seemed to me like it was worth it. I knew I couldn't save you, I knew I couldn't change your life... but I sure as hell wanted to try. I wanted to be what you needed. It hurts that I'm not."

Quinn starts crying again. "But if you're not what I need, then what do I need?"

Santana shrugs. "You need you. You only ever needed you. I realized it that day, when you were dancing on the bed, and I was so scared, that you would figure it out, figure out you didn't need me, that you had your own wings to fly, your own feet to dance."

"If I do, where are they, Santana?" she sobs. "I can't even dance anymore."

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I mean I don't know-"

"Get up."

"What?"

"Get up."

"What for?"

"You're gonna dance. Right now."

"Dance what?"

"Whatever you want. Hip-hop, tap, the foxtrot. I don't care."

"But... there's no music."

Santana points to the waves; now that it's night, they're crashing louder than ever. "You need any more music than that?"

Quinn's mind goes back to her roots as she gets up tentatively, her feet shaping into first position. Ballet. She takes a leap, and midair, remembers the one fact that matters more than anything in dancing: that there is no room for doubt, no room for anything except absolute certainty, and knows, at once, why she stopped dancing.

Her fall reminds Santana of the time she broke a crystal vase as a child, and wanting of so desperately to put it back together but realizing she didn't know how, and that even if she did, it wouldn't do any good. It would still be broken, just held together by thin, spidery veins. She's the one who cries, now.

"I don't know, Quinn. I don't know."

"You don't know what?"

"I don't know what's wrong with us."

"There's nothing wrong with you. Whatever's wrong here, it's wrong with me. Look at me, Santana. I'm a disaster. I've always been a disaster. An awful wife, an awful mother. How in the world did you agree to marry me?"

"I love you," Santana says simply, and Quinn can't believe this is the same woman who once had such a hard time saying those words.

"How can you love me? You're sane, you're healthy, you're-"

"I'm not any different for loving you, Quinn. And I don't love you because you cook dinner or because you help the kids with their homework or because you look after Jake. I told you this once. I love you because you fall, and because you cry and because you sleep all the time."

"Santana, those are the worst parts of me. That's the person I never wanted to be, the one I don't even love."

"Then we're gonna find a version of yourself that you can love."  
...............................

"Oh, so that's why she didn't want to dance."

"When?"

"At the wedding."

"She didn't? At all?"

"Nope."

Santana sighs. "I don't know what to do, Jake."

"She's not your responsibility, you know."

"She's my wife."

"Your wife, not your kid."

"Jake, I asked you to help me, if you're not going to do that, then you can just-"

Jake interrupts her. "Find her something to do."

"What?"

"Something to do. A hobby, or a job or something. Like when she used to give dance classes."

"She's not going to want to do that again."

"Something different, then."

Santana is at a loss. Her brother frowns at her. "What?"

"It's just that... she hates everything."

Jake rolls his eyes. "You're being dumb. Not even I hate everything and I'm a fucking basket case. That's the whole point of this. At the hospital, when they found us jobs or activities we liked... it made us want to..." He struggles with the words.

"Live?"

"Not so much. Maybe not want to die? Or hold on to life a little longer?"

"I can't think of a single thing she likes. I mean, aside from reality shows and reading those stupid magazines-"

"I always thought she'd make a good event planner."

"Huh?"

Jake shrugs, like he just said the most normal thing in the planet. "She likes parties-"

"Liked parties."

"Nah, she still likes them. Just not her ex-husband's wedding. And she likes planning things, and she's got flawless taste. It's something new, but it's a world she's comfortable in."

"I'm not sure she's that comfortable in it anymore."

"She'll be working with strangers. No one's gonna judge her."

"Sounds like you've got this all planned out."

Jake shrugs immodestly. "It's all coming to me as we speak."

"Keep going, then."

"Well, I was thinking... she could interview with Maisie Henderson."

"No way."

"We're not going to be able to arrange an interview with anyone else. You know any other event planners?"

"No."

"Then?"

"I fucking hate the Hendersons, you know I do. I haven't talked to them since grandmother died. Can't you do it?"

Jake raises his eyebrows. "Yeah. Cause Maisie's really gonna wanna talk to the guy who's been in an insane asylum for the past ten years."

"See? She's a judgmental bitch."

"Santana, you're a successful woman with a Ph.D., and, as far as she's concerned, the only heir to the Avner fortune. Why wouldn't she want to talk to you?"

Santana sighs. "You think she'll care that I'm gay?"

"Who knows? Maybe? I mean, you don't have to tell her Quinn's your wife. Just say she's a friend."  
......................................

It's the first time she's ever been in this position, and she wonders how she let Santana and Jake talk her into it. But they had known, all along, that she wouldn't be able to refuse both of them, that's why they'd insisted on talking to her together. The thing is, they're not here now, waiting with her.

There is some excitement to it, she would have never agreed if there wasn't, but what she's feeling right now is closer to pure horror. She's here, alone and with the realization that she doesn't have Santana, Finn, her children or Jake, that she never really had anyone, that no one ever has anyone, because the most important moments in life, you have to face by yourself, scared shitless and in deafening silence.

You can't have anyone, because no matter how much they love you, they can't come into your world, and maybe that's what hurts most of all, that after searching for love far and wide, it fails you at the time when you were certain you'd have it. It builds and thrives on happiness, but vanishes with sadness, Quinn thinks. Everything vanishes, in sadness and fear. Everything except for yourself.

It's all like a dream, walking into that exquisite office, being greeted by this amazing woman. She knows she doesn't look nervous, she's the queen of pretending, and right now she's pretending she's not even inside herself, but somewhere else in the room, analyzing her own body and the situation from a distance, as if all this was happening to somebody else. She answers questions accurately and in a monotone, fairly confident it's going alright until they come to the question that stumps her.

"So, Quinn, what are your hobbies?"

It's the simplest of questions, really. Except that, when one doesn't have an answer, the simplicity of the question ceases to be of relevance. It shouldn't take anyone this long to answer, and she remembers Jake's advice: Say the first thing that pops into your mind. The thing is, the first thing she thinks to say is sleeping, as that is the only hobby she appears to have. Sleeping, watching TV, eating whatever junk food comes across her path.

Has her life really become this sad?  
...........................................

They both act normally when Santana picks her up, chatting amicably and even deciding to go somewhere nice for lunch, a steakhouse Quinn's been wanting to try for a long time.

Their waitress is young, probably around twenty, with skin darker than Santana's and bright, green eyes. She looks busy, overwhelmed and in a bad mood, and isn't even pretending to be nice to either of them. Quinn tries to ignore this as she looks through the menu, trying to find something that looks like it might be good for her health, but gives up almost immediately and orders a mixed platter of curly and sweet potato fries, mozzarella sticks and onion rings.

"You're not gonna order steak?"

Quinn looks up at her wife. "No. I don't think so."

"What's the point of coming to a steakhouse, then?"

Quinn shrugs and the waitress looks at them impatiently. Santana sighs. "I'll have a rib-eye, well-done, please."

Quinn raises her eyebrows as the waitress leaves, before she has to witness any more of this. "You're eating meat?"

"Well, we're at a fucking steakhouse, I figure somebody has to."

"Santana, I'm a vegetarian, remember?"

"Yeah, so am I. But since you insisted on coming here, I thought Jake had rubbed off on you or something. Besides, you appear to be a vegetarian only when it's convenient."

"Did Jake tell you I ate meat the other day? Because-"

"No, he didn't tell me anything. I just thought that, since you wanted to come here and you know I don't eat meat, you were at least going to order some for yourself. Otherwise, what's the point, right? If you were just going to order something you could have had anywhere else?"

Quinn wonders if they've reached the point in this relationship where she has to apologize for what she eats, but before she can say anything, the waitress arrives with their plates. Santana begins chewing on her steak menacingly, while Quinn gingerly picks at her basket, in disbelief at the fact that only five minutes ago she was craving this food and now it's just making her want to throw up.  
Still, she forces herself to eat some, because no one is saying anything and she doesn't want to bring attention to the obvious fact that she hates the food in front of her. She won't give Santana the satisfaction of having ruined this for her, and she knows that if this silence goes on for any longer, she'll start crying.

"I didn't get it," she says, breaking the silence.

"I know."

Quinn's taken aback by this. "You know? How do you know? I don't even know."

"If you don't know, then why did you say it?"

"Because I felt like I hadn't, but apparently you... Were you spying on me?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Quinn. I don't have time for that. And please hurry up and eat your food, I have to get to work."

Quinn stuffs a handful of whatever she can grab with one hand into her mouth, washes it down with some lemonade. "So you were just that certain from the start that I wasn't gonna get it, were you?"

"Quinn, you didn't even try."

"How would you know? You weren't even there, you didn't even-"

"I called Mrs. Henderson to see how it had gone-"

"I thought you said you weren't spying on me."

"Please lower your voice, the whole restaurant can-"

"No, it's obvious you didn't trust me to do well, and look, you were right."

Quinn's eyes are filling with tears that are threatening to spill, and Santana is looking at her with an expression that very clearly says Don't you dare.

Don't you dare to what? Cry in public? Quinn wonders. No, she won't give Santana the satisfaction of that either. A tear or two slip out and she wipes at them just as their waitress comes to pick up their half-eaten plates. She looks back an forth between them rudely, there is no way she missed the argument and seems completely unmoved by Quinn's tears. Quinn wonders if she comes across this often, and gets up quickly.

"Excuse me. I'm going to the ladies room."

Santana rolls her eyes, but knows she can't go after her and make even more of a scene. In the bathroom, Quinn splashes her face with cold water and takes a couple of deep breaths, trying to regain a sense of calm.

When she gets back to the table, everything's been cleared, and Santana is sitting there, a look of repressed fury on her face. "Can we leave now?", she asks coldly, taking out her wallet.

"Don't worry about it," Quinn says, waving the waitress over with a fifty dollar bill. Santana looks mildly surprised but doesn't say anything. Quinn never carries any money with her, partly because she has no money of her own, and partly because she doesn't need to, since she hardly ever goes out. But Jake had pushed the crumpled fifty into her hand this morning before she left for the interview, almost as if he had known she would need it.


	36. Chapter 36

As soon as the waitress brings back the change, Quinn races out of the restaurant and to the parking lot, Santana at her heels.

"Quinn, get in the truck."

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

"You can't stay here."

"Wanna bet?"

Santana sighs. "Quinn, please. I'm begging you. Get in the truck. I have to get to work."

All that Quinn wants to do is get as far away from Santana as possible, but reason gets the best of her and she jumps into the passenger seat of Santana's truck. They drive all of two miles before Quinn starts crying. She wants to stop it so badly, but she can't; they're not tears of sadness, like the thousands she's cried before in her lifetime, they're tears of anger and frustration and disappointment in herself, for getting into the truck with Santana.

"Why are you crying?"

But Quinn can't answer, so she just pulls out a pair of sunglasses from her purse and lets the tears continue to roll down her cheeks silently as she puts them on.

"Quinn, why are you crying?"

Her silence is driving Santana insane. "Why the fuck are you crying? I swear to god, you think tears are the solution to everything. You are such a drama queen, you know that? I had to talk to someone I fucking hate to give you that interview, the least you could have done is-"

"You haven't even listened to me, how would you know, you-"

"I'm tired of listening to your excuses. You're a fucking ungrateful- Shit."

Santana's phone's started ringing, and she's fumbling around the car trying to find it. "Shit, that must be Dr. Wu, I'm fucking late for work, Quinn, I told you—"

But Quinn gets her hands on the phone first. Furiously, she rolls down the window, and tosses it out while it's still ringing.

"ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS-"

But Quinn's already swinging the car door open and jumping out of the car. She lands on her feet, wobbly, and starts running. Santana slows down the car, following her.

"Quinn, I've got to get to work."

"Get to it, then."

"I can't leave you here."

"I don't want to be near you. Leave me alone."

"Quinn, if you don't get into the car this instant, I swear I'm leaving without you. I'm not going to miss the day because of your spoiled-ass-"

But Quinn keeps on running. Eventually, Santana stops following her and turns the car around.

Quinn walks all the way home, tears streaming down her face, make up ruined, hair a mess, and the words never again, never again ringing ceaselessly through her head.  
..........................

She never knows how she makes it home, but by the time she gets there, it's already dark. Thankfully, Santana isn't back from work yet, and everyone else appears to be asleep. Quinn rushes into her room and begins throwing clothes into a suitcase, whatever she can find, rather hysterically, until Jake comes into the room.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"Fuck off, Jake."

He sits down on the bed and watches as she continues packing. "I take the interview didn't go well?"

"Yeah. How perceptive of you. Like Santana hasn't told you everything already."

"I haven't talked to Santana since you guys left this morning."

Quinn doesn't say anything.

"So, I guess this means you're leaving again?"

"Look, Jake, can't you just go?"

But Jake's goes into their bathroom, quietly brings back a couple of tubes of toothpaste. "Don't forget these."

Quinn glares at him. "Are you trying to be funny?"

"No. I'm trying to help you."

"You're trying to help me leave your sister?"

"Well, I'm not gonna try to stop you."

Quinn looks at him defiantly. "I'm taking the car."

"Then I'm coming with you."

.............................

They manage to make it out of the garage and onto the driveway without too much trouble, Quinn at the wheel and Jake next to her, helping her steer.

"Kids asleep?"

Jake nods. "I double-checked."

Quinn nods and makes a turn.

"Where are we going?" Jake asks.

"My parents' house."

"That's hours away."

"You don't have to come if you don't want to."

"It's not that. It's just that, frankly, I'd be happy if we made it past city limits without getting into a major accident."

Quinn shrugs. An accident sounds pretty trivial to her right about now, maybe even welcome. Honestly, she doesn't think they'll make it that far either, but who gives a fuck? She turns to Jake. "Why does everything have to hurt so much?"

He shrugs, keeping his eyes on the road, since she isn't.

"I was always such a romantic, you know? It was the one thing I could never let go of, no matter how hard I tried. I fantasized all the time, about falling in love. I thought I'd found it, when I met Finn."

"But that wasn't the love story you wanted."

"No. It always felt like Finn and I were just... playing grownups. I wanted something torrid, epic. I wanted it to be the story of my life."

"Well, what you and my sister have is torrid and epic, no one can deny that." Jake turns the steering wheel gently.

"Yeah, but I thought that was going to bring me happiness and-"

"It didn't?"

"Yes, but.. not like I thought, not like-"

"The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?"

"Exactly."

"That's a lot to expect from anyone, Quinn, but even more to expect from someone like my sister. You could never be her everything, because she has an everything."

"Yeah. Her job."

"It doesn't mean she doesn't love you, she's just always loved this-"

"More than she loves me?"

"I don't know about that. But... you should have known, that she wouldn't, couldn't give you everything."

"I did. I thought that I'd be happy with whatever she could give me."

"But you're not."

"No."

"Our shrink at the clinic always told us our happiness was our own responsibility. Watch out for that speed bump."

Quinn pushes on the breaks too suddenly. The car jolts violently, but she keeps going.

"I know, Jake. I went to a shrink too, once."

"When?"

"After I lost the baby."

"And?"

"She told me the same thing. And I hated her for it."

"Do you think you'd still be with Finn if..."

"If I hadn't lost Elizabeth? I don't know. The shrink said a baby wasn't enough to make a person happy, or fix their lives."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. I never went back after that, even though Finn had already paid for, like, three months in advance."

"Well, if a baby wasn't going to fix your life, Santana certainly won't."

"Do you think there's something wrong with her, too?"

"Quinn, the way we were raised didn't allow for love."

"But she doesn't seem to suffer for lack of it. She's not like me, pining away every second of every day..."

"Because she's learned to live without it. If it comes into her life she'll take it, like she did with Jaeger, and with you and your kids, but it's not something she's actively searching for. It's not something she needs, and I think you need her to need it."

"Doesn't everybody need love?"

Jake considers this as a car speeds past them, beeping because they're going so slowly. Both roll down their windows at the same time and flip him off.

"I think so. In some form or another. But she always had science. And me. I'm not sure she ever needed anything else. You're a bonus, but... you're not something she needs. She's happy, she's OK the way she is. She's always been."

"So, taking responsibility for your own happiness mean teaching yourself not to need love?"

"Maybe. Only she didn't teach herself, Quinn. Life taught us."

"But... you're not like that, are you?"

"No. I let it get to me. Maybe that's why I ended up where I did."

"So the moral of the story is, never love anybody."

"No, I think the moral of the story is never need anybody more than you need yourself."

"I want to not need her, Jake."

Quinn pulls over, suddenly, on the side of the road. She throws herself into Jake's arms, and cries bitterly and haggardly into his chest, the way she hasn't allowed herself to cry since she broke her first marriage- and now she's breaking her second.

...................................

Santana is in the computer lab, working on some charts, thinking she's not going to let this get to her, thinking it doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt, not as bad as she thought it would, right now she's just angry. After she's been on the computer for the whole afternoon and well into the night, her anger has started to dull to the point where she has managed to convince herself she doesn't care anymore.

It's one of the things she's always loved about her job, about her career, the fact that it allows her to extract herself completely from her own life and thoughts, because it requires such concentration and such dedication, passion, even, that it automatically shuts her heart and brain off to anything else.

It has, for the past couple of hours, allowed her to escape this nightmare, to forget about it almost completely, until she starts digging through her files and runs into an unmarked folder.

She never has unmarked folders, ever, that's how organized she is, and knows at once it must belong to Jaeger, the only other person allowed to use this computer. She clicks on it without thinking about it too much; her son has never been one to ask for privacy because he's already so transparent.

The folder is mostly a bunch of scans, of what Santana guesses must be Elliott's drawings, and she doesn't know how, but the kid is getting more talented by the second. At the end, though, there are a couple of pictures. Santana clicks on the tiny icons, thinking they must be of Jaeger and his brother, but instead finds they're all selfies where Quinn and Jaeger are posing together. In the first one, their faces are painted like Indian warriors. In another, Jaeger's sporting pink heart-shaped sunglasses and Quinn's wearing a green wig, and in the last, they're cheek to cheek, looking at the camera seriously, their wide eyes making them look similar in spite of the difference in color.

No one would doubt that they are mother and son.

.................................

Eventually, she runs out of tears. She has cried so hard that she's sure her face has twisted into that swollen, unrecognizable mask she knows too well yet again. Her head is resting on Jake's lap and she feels sleepy. He's stroking her hair and doesn't speak until he's sure she's done crying.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Look."

"Where?"

"Up there."

He's pointing to something, and Quinn sits up to look. There is a sign a few meters from where they're parked, and even in the dark, she can make out the letters.

You are now outside Chicago city limits. Drive carefully.

Quinn looks at Jake incredulously. She laughs, shakily, and pretty soon Jake's laughing with her. He cups her face into his hands and looks into her eyes, and she looks into his, and they're wet too, but these are happy tears.

"We did it, Quinn. We did it!"

She nods, smiling, and intertwines their fingers together. "We did. Now let's go home."

He pulls back slowly. "Are you sure?"

She nods. "It's gonna be a bitch turning the car around. But yeah. I'm sure."

They manage to get it done, after a couple of tries and much beeping, and Quinn shaking all the way through it, even with Jake's hands resting on top of hers.

"You want me to do it?"

But Quinn shakes her head. "No. I got us here, I'm sure I can get us back."

Jake shrugs and turns on the radio, knowing they're not going to talk anymore, that they're all talked out. He keeps switching stations and humming along to everything that comes on until they're about ten minutes from home. He turns to look at Quinn, to tell her they're almost there, just in time to see her dozing off.

"Jesus Christ," he yells, waking Quinn, who tries to hit the brakes but presses the wrong pedal instead. Jake grabs a hold of the wheel and tries to steer, but ends up going too far. They crash into a power pole. Jake immediately throws himself across Quinn's lap and opens her door.

"Get out! Now!"

Quinn jumps off the car, and Jake does too, fearing the pole will collapse on top of them. They run until they've reached a safe distance, just in time to see some wires fall on the car, sparks flying.

"Fuck. Jake, I'm so sorry, I should have-"

"No, it's fine, it was my fault, I was the one who-"

They're speaking over each other until they realize there is no point. What's done is done and there is no way to fix it now. Arguing about whose fault it was won't solve a thing.

"So, we walk then?"

"Yeah. I guess we're not that far away."

Leaving the car and everything in it behind them, they make their way home.

..................................

When they get there, the phone is ringing. Quinn picks up quickly, without thinking it might be Santana, just hoping the sound won't wake up the children.

"Mamma?"

The voice on the other end of the line is infrequent enough to be unfamiliar, but she only has one daughter who's not sleeping under this roof.

"Yeah, Willow, honey. What's wrong?"

Like she needs any more problems right now.

"Nothing. I just wanted to talk to you."

"Oh. About anything in particular?"

"No. Not really. You think I need to be in trouble to call you?"

"No, but... Willow, you almost never call."

"I know."

"And it's so late."

"I couldn't sleep."

"I thought you didn't have trouble sleeping."

"I don't."

There is a pause. "I'm sorry I woke you, I guess I should-"

"No. It's fine. I wasn't asleep."

"You weren't?"

"No, I just got home, actually."

Willow scoffs. "This late? You're lying."

"No."

"Where were you?"

"Out crashing Santana's car."

"You serious?"

"Yeah."

"What happened?"

"Long story."

"I got time."

"I got into a fight with Santana and I was trying to run away and I took the car."

She surprises herself, and her daughter, by saying it.

"Mamma, wait."

"What?"

"You mean to tell me you still don't know how to drive?"

"No," Quinn says defensively.

"But I thought... I thought Santana had taught you."

"She tried. Didn't go too well."

"Well, why didn't you say something?"

"To whom?"

"To me. I could've taught you."

"Yeah, right, Willow."

"No. I'm serious, mom. Why didn't you just ask?"

Quinn doesn't have an answer to that one. Or maybe she has a million.

"I could teach you, still."

It dawns on Quinn, then. The reason she never learned with anybody else. She had been waiting for this moment all her life, even before Willow was a part of it.

"OK."

"OK?"

"Yeah. When?"

"Winter break in two weeks?"

"I'll be waiting."

"I'll be there."

"I know you will."

..................................

Santana speeds all the way home. She doesn't know why, but this seems urgent. When she gets there, she finds the door to the garage open and the white car she bought for Quinn so long ago gone. Her heart feels like it stops beating, only to surge again after a few seconds, quicker than she's ever known it to beat in her life.

She runs inside, into their room before looking anywhere else, and finds the door to their closet open, and most of Quinn's clothes gone. The room is in disarray, as if her wife hadn't known quite what to take and had just taken pieces from here and there. Drawers are open and half-empty, and even their toothpaste is gone from it's usual place near the bathroom sink.

Santana falls to her knees on the bathroom floor and cries harder than she's ever cried in her life. She has never really allowed herself to experience this act, one of the most human of all, in full; she learned to hold back tears since she was so young that they no longer came very easily or naturally. She's fought with Quinn so many times and never cried before, or at least not like this, not even the last time she left. But it's different now, this time she knows it's for good, this time it's forever.

She doesn't know how long she spends there, her forehead pressed to the cool floor until she gets tired and then, curled up on her side, next to the toilet because she feels so nauseous she thinks she might throw up at any given moment.

It isn't until her nausea subsides that she, at last, gets up and crawls to bed. She tries to sleep, but instead ends up tossing and turning for another few hours. Now she understands Quinn; Santana had never before had a sleepless night in her life. It makes her think of Jake, too, and she realizes that even though Quinn is gone, there is still love within these walls.

She grabs a blanket and quietly makes her way to Jake's room, where she finds the door partly open. She walks in and finds Quinn already there. She's taken up Santana's spot on Jake's bed, curled up behind him, both of them sleeping peacefully.

She feels such an enormous sense of relief it almost makes her cry again. Instead, she grabs her blanket and throws it over both her wife and her brother and slips into bed with them, spooning Quinn. Her wife, unconscious in sleep, holds on to her hand the way she used to, such a long time ago. This time, Santana has no problem falling asleep, and even though she never, ever dreams, this time she dreams.  
......................................

She's coming out of the supermarket, groceries in her shopping cart, headed to her truck. There is a small, white car parked next to her. The windows are partially rolled down and there is a woman asleep in the driver's seat. She looks young and very pregnant, so much that even though her seat is pushed all the way back, her belly still touches the steering wheel.

There is something about her that makes Santana stop in her tracks and hold her breath. The woman is wearing some sort of bohemian maternity dress; white and blue flowers, like a china pattern. Her hair is golden with some lighter, blonder strands. There is a headband across her forehead, but her hair is still messy, and partially hiding her face. She looks exhausted, sleeping with her head on her shoulder. Her mouth is open and she's even drooling a little, but she has both hands on her belly and there is something else on her face that seems strange there; a contentment, some kind of peace.

Santana wonders how long she'll be able to stay there and stare at her, because she'll do it, for as long as she can. Almost as if she'd heard her, the woman opens her eyes. There is a slight smile on her face, like she knows her, like she's happy to see her. Santana looks into her eyes. They're piercing, pure gold.

She knows these eyes. Maybe she always has.


	37. Chapter 37

PART 3

...

They pull up at a roadside motel, and Quinn's heart feels like it's about to jump out of her chest. Under any other circumstances, she would have never agreed to stay in such a place. It's nasty and creepy, exactly the kind of motel where people get themselves killed in movies, but she doesn't care. She might as well get killed, she thinks, with what's about to happen.

Santana parks the convertible and gives her a small smile. "What is about to happen?"

Quinn doesn't say anything, stays in the car while Santana goes to get the key for the room, trying to come to terms with this without thinking about it too much. She could get out of the convertible and run, she can still stop, nothing's happened yet. Only a kiss, but the thing is, that kiss was everything, and it's binding her.

And, where would she run anyway?

There's nowhere to go, just the middle-of-nowhere, but what's even scarier is that she can't run from what's inside of her.

"You OK?" Santana asks, uncertain, keys, actual keys and not a keycard, jangling in her hand.

Quinn nods, because she can't say anything, but doesn't move.

"Planning to stay here all night?"

Quinn looks up at Santana, and it's obvious in her eyes, that she's breaking.

"What if I can't do it?"

"Do what?"

"You know..."

"Quinn, I didn't stop here because I expected anything from you. Believe it or not, we need a place to sleep. We don't have to fuck."

Quinn flinches. "Can you not say it like that?"

"How else do you want me to say it?"

"I don't want to talk about it at all."

"You're the one that brought it up."

Quinn buries her head in her hands and Santana feels sorry for her. She puts a hand on her head and Quinn jumps. Santana draws her hand back quickly, with a sigh. "There isn't anything wrong with talking about it, you know."

Quinn scoffs."Yeah. Except it's all wrong and dirty and nasty one day, and then the next day you're married and it's all OK. Everyone expects you to be fine with it."

"Quinn..."

"And you've been told since day one it's something bad and then they expect you to like it and enjoy it and you have to please your husband and-"

"Quinn..."

"What?"

"It's not supposed to be anything. We don't have to do anything. If you're going to feel guilty about it for the rest of your life, it's not worth it."

"It's just... Santana, I'm gonna have no idea what I'm doing."

"And you think I am?"

I'm just as scared as you are.

................................

Quinn's jacket unzips easily. She's wearing nothing underneath, and Santana runs a finger down her ribs, one by one, as if counting them. She doesn't need to, she knows how many of them there are, but she's never had a chance to actually prove it, and she can't believe she was once bored by this fascinating, given fact.

Quinn leans back and pulls Santana to her, but she holds back, her face hovering above hers like a question.

Quinn takes a deep breath. "Yes, please."

She feels Santana's mouth, small and soft, on the bones of her shoulder, and shuts her eyes.

"Don't."

She opens them, startled. "What?"

"Don't close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Because then you'll forget."

Quinn shuts her eyes again. "Maybe I want to."

But Santana grabs her face gently with both hands. "No, Quinn. Look at me. I'm not gonna let you forget."

She kisses all the way down her belly and this time, Quinn can't take her eyes off her. Santana unbuttons her jeans and then looks up.

"Do you want me to?"

Quinn tilts her head back, looking at the ceiling, and doesn't say anything. Santana stops. "Quinn?"

Her name on Santana's lips grounds her."Santana, I..."

"Yeah?"

"I've never..."

Santana gasps a little and sits up. "You... Finn hasn't..."

Quinn shakes her head silently, still not looking at her.

"Really? He never asked to?"

"No, he did, I just... never let him."

"Why?"

"I thought it was disgusting."

"Disgusting because..."

"Because you're putting your..."

"Mouth."

"Yeah."

"On somebody else's -"

"Santana, don't." Her face is beet red and she doesn't know where to look. She crosses her arms over her breasts and sees a soft smile flicker across Santana's face in the fading light. "Oh, Quinn."

They stay like that for a while, until Santana breaks the silence. "Did you ever... do it to him?"

Quinn grabs a pillow and puts it over her face. "Yes."

"Did you think it was disgusting?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I loved him. Did you ever do it to Sam?"

"Once."

"And?"

"I hated it."

Quinn giggles, then puts the pillow down and looks at Santana. "Did Sam ever do it to you?"

"Yeah."

"How does it feel?"

"It's... hard to describe. But, Quinn, you've given birth three times, I don't get why you're so embarrassed."

"Because this is like, worse."

"Worse?"

"Than anything I've ever done before. It's... more..."

There are a number of words running through her head. Embarrassing, intimate. Riskier.

"That's the whole point. But, Quinn, if you don't want me to, say it. Say it now, and I'll get the hell off of you. You won't even have to see me again if you don't want to."

Quinn can't say she doesn't want it, but she can't say how much she does want it either. So she just whispers.

"Santana."

"What?"

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Please."

"I want you to say it, Quinn. Tell me you want this."

"You know I do."

"Actually, I don't."

So Quinn sits up, looks into Santana's brown eyes and thinks for a minute, that no, they're not golden, but somehow, they're even more magnificent than hers. She whispers in her ear.

"I want you."

Santana shivers and pushes her onto the bed, licking a path down her stomach until Quinn thinks she's gonna lose her mind. You have lost your mind, a voice tells her. And all that rings in her head as Santana settles between her legs is, I know. I know.

Quinn tries to control her breathing and fights the urge to push her away. Santana's hands are steady as she takes off Quinn's jeans and underwear and spreads her legs open slowly. By the time Quinn feels her between them, she has to close her eyes, her face is burning so much.

"Quinn, look at me."

But she can't, with Santana's mouth on her she feels like she's been reduced to just one part, her whole body a tiny, pulsating heart, a constant beat that speeds up and slows down for what feels like hours. But time is gone and so is everything else. There is only this, and it's trying to take her.

She lets it, finally, and then she feels a soft hand slipping into hers, and hears the voice again. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hudson. There's no heartbeat."

But she doesn't care, because she feels so fucking good she can't bring herself to care that her daughter's dead, and she can hear Santana's voice far, far away, "Quinn, open your eyes," and she tries, for a second, but then closes them again.

Slender fingers grab on to her other hand frantically, and she's back in the hospital bed, only there is a girl standing beside her, her hair long and dark, and her eyes Quinn's eyes, like sunlight you can't catch. She can feel everything quaking and Santana holding her down against the bed, and the want she feels is so bad that she loses herself in her daughter's eyes until there is no way back and everything is exploding, orange and gold behind her eyelids. The girl smiles and Quinn says goodbye as she wraps her legs around Santana's shoulders, trying to keep her there, keep her there forever, while she chains the memory of Elizabeth to her heart.

Santana's fingers, intertwined with hers, bring her back, and when she opens her eyes she's so thirsty that the first thing she does is push Santana off her and run to the bathroom, where she drinks from the faucet like a cat. Santana comes up behind her slowly and watches with concern.

"Are you OK?"

Quinn turns to her, her face, hair and breasts glistening with water. "Yes."

"You sure?"

Quinn stands on her toes and presses a kiss to her lips. Now there is water on Santana, too, and Quinn grabs her by the hand and drags her back to bed, where she licks the drops off one by one, until Santana falls asleep, and thoughts arrest Quinn like never before. Who am I? Who am I after this?

She thinks back to that thing they tell them at church. Offer all your days up to the Lord. Not this one, she thinks. This one I'm keeping to myself.

In the morning, she walks to the bathroom, making as much noise as she wants to. She turns on the shower, opens her legs wide, and pisses just as the water begins to fall on her. The pipes creak, waking Santana, who, still in bed, remembers being a child, woken up by the sound of her brother's laughter.

...................................

They're silent in the convertible, still two hours away from Willow's camp. No one insists on music, and Santana tries to reach for Quinn's hand, but ends up with her hand between Quinn's legs instead. Quinn jumps and Santana bursts into laughter. Quinn follows, not bothering to swat her hand away.

"You still think it's disgusting?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Well, yeah, I do, but..."

"But what?"

Quinn covers her face with her hands. "I liked it."

Santana laughs. "You're gonna have to get comfortable talking about this eventually."

"We don't have to talk about it."

Santana's heart stops, because if this is it, nothing is going to stop her from pulling over in this deserted road and taking something that will last her forever. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that we're already doing it, isn't that enough?"

Santana wants to sigh with relief, but instead thinks about Finn. "Quinn, you know what we did isn't-"

"Yes, Santana. I know. Why do you think I don't want to talk about it?"

Santana nods, and this time manages to hold on to Quinn's hand.

.................................

If Willow notices anything is amiss when they pick her up at camp, she doesn't mention it. If anything, she's being more standoffish than ever; her surly temper daring anyone to bring up the reason they're here. Quinn finds it hard to believe she was homesick, because Willow has given every indication of hating home, and if she hadn't heard it from the camp counselor herself, she'd believe Willow had some ulterior motive.

She hasn't even asked about Santana, though Quinn is sure she doesn't even know who she is, aside from the fact that she's seen her around at a few times. She remains this way until they get to the car, and she gets a look at Sam's convertible.

"Whoa. Whose is that?"

Quinn smiles a little. "Santana's. Whom I don't believe you've met, by the way."

"Of course I've met her. She's the new Kitty."

Quinn thinks Santana will be offended by this, but instead she laughs and stretches out her hand to Willow, like she's an adult. And maybe she is. "Santana Lopez."

Willow takes it coolly. "Willow."

"Great name."

"Not if your last name is Hudson."

Santana tries it out. "Willow Hudson. It's fine. Sounds like someone with personality."

Quinn laughs. "That she's definitely got."

Willow rolls her eyes and disappears into the backseat of the car.

......................................

The road is hot and stuffy, and the sun scalding on their skins, but Santana drives with the top down, for Willow's sake, even though she is asleep in the back. Quinn catches herself twice, about to hold Santana's hand, but then remembers her daughter. There is still this thing, sizzling between them, like one night wasn't enough to quiet it down, the way Quinn had hoped. She had also hoped that would happen once Willow got there, but instead it seems to grow stronger, a balm to her daughter's aloofness.

Quinn alternates between sleep and wakefulness, dozing off, and when both mother and daughter are asleep, Santana ponders on the similarities of their faces, not worried about keeping her eyes on the empty road.

She stops at a gas station when the heat gets too unbearable, and Quinn stirs awake.

"Why did you stop?"

"I'm thirsty. I want a beer or something."

Quinn turns to her, to see if she's serious. "You can't drink and drive."

"It's just a beer."

"I'll get it for you," Willow pipes up from the backseat. "I need to get out and stretch."

Quinn turns to look at her daughter. "Willow, in case you've forgotten, you're a minor. You can't buy alcohol."

But Willow is already jumping off the convertible. "Wanna bet?"

They watch as she walks inside, swaying her hips, and leans over the counter, flirting with the attendant. Quinn shakes her head. "I can't believe she came from me."

Santana giggles, the first time Quinn's actually heard her make that sound. "Oh, trust me, she couldn't have come from anyone else."

..........................................

Quinn feels a sense of finality when they get to the house, so deep it gives her a stomachache and makes her see blurry. Willow jumps out of the car as soon as they park and races into the house, and Quinn wishes she could jump out just like that too, without a care in the world, without feeling like everything will break when she leaves that convertible.

"You don't have to leave if you don't want to."

Quinn smiles in spite of herself. "And what, stay here forever?"

"No. But you could stay over at the house tonight. Jaeger won't be back for a couple of days."

Suddenly, it's like nothing else matters anymore. All she can see is this, and she nods. "Let me get some clothes."

Santana lays a hand on her arm. "Wait."

"Yeah?"

"Bring that dress."

"Which one?"

"The one you were wearing the day we met."

.....................................

She stuffs everything into a garbage bag because it's the first thing she can find. The dress, underwear, whatever clothes tear easier from the hangers. She feels lightheaded with anticipation, certain she has never wanted anything in her life as much as she wants this.

Under other circumstances, she would be looking all around Santana's house, comparing her furniture and decor to her own, but today, as soon as Santana locks the door behind her, Quinn jumps into her arms. She wraps her legs around Santana's waist and begins kissing her neck. Santana carries her easily into her room and sets her on top of a dresser. She brushes the hair out of Quinn's face with both hands, and smiles at her flushed cheeks. "Hey. Take it easy."

Quinn cringes. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's OK, it's just... we have time."

Quinn nods and Santana sets her down with a grin. "Now, will you wear the dress for me?"

Quinn changes in the bathroom, into her nicest underwear and no bra, and then shimmies into the dress, which is looser on her now, easier to get into.

When she goes back into the room, Santana is laying face down on the bed, but when she looks up, her eyes light up. Quinn doesn't know what to do, so she just stands there, wondering if she should maybe twirl or strike a pose, but unwilling to break this thing, like music playing between them.

Santana gets up, feeling somehow like she should crawl across the floor to this woman, because all of this is bringing her to her knees, but instead she walks to her shakily and puts her hands around her waist.

Quinn doesn't want to ask for it, but it's all she's been thinking about since it happened, and Santana seems to know, to feel the same, because she's rolling Quinn's dress up and peeling off her lace underwear so quickly, and before she knows it, she feels Santana's mouth on her, soft and wet like she remembers, and it makes sense, Quinn thinks, that in this cruel world, the utmost pleasure is one you can't give yourself.

Afterwards, she doesn't lay on Santana's chest the way she does with Finn. Instead, they roll over on their sides, facing each other, legs tucked in and touching, and spend the next hour staring at each other, tracing each other's faces with their fingertips, and then there is nothing, just the thudding of her own heart, somewhere in the universe. For the first time in months, she sleeps through the night.

She ends up staying for three whole days, and feels like it's her fucking honeymoon. Finn and the Bahamas were never this; she knows even paradise itself would not tempt her out of Santana's bedroom and away from this sweet, crazy thing she can't get enough of.

Santana laughs a lot when they're in bed, and it's not so much that she thinks Quinn's funny as it is that she's beginning to cherish the sound of her own laughter; a sound she hadn't heard so often in so long. It's not amused laughter, Quinn thinks. It is joyous, and grateful.

......................................

Santana leaves only once, during the first day, to get groceries, because there is nothing to eat or drink inside the house. This time, Quinn can wander around to her heart's content, and she does, first around the kitchen, then the dining room and finally the living room, where she finds, on the coffee table, an issue of some scientific magazine featuring butterflies. It would be the last thing she would ever pick up, but today, even that seems manageable, and she lies across the couch and just reads, abandoning herself to the wind and the sun coming in through the windows, to the words, to happiness. She falls asleep, and when she wakes up, Santana is still not back.

She gets up and walks around, and finds herself in what must be Jaeger's room. Quinn is not used to anyone having better things than her children, but this room is so incredible, she doesn't even feel jealous.

She hears a pained voice over her shoulder. "I know it's crazy. I forget because I'm in here so often, but... you must think we're insane."

"No.. it's nice."

Santana has the decency to look ashamed as Quinn walks around, discovering with every step the hidden complexities of the room. Finally, she comes upon the microscope, remembers the day she saw Santana pouring over it.

"This must have been expensive."

"What, the room?"

"No, the microscope."

"It cost more than everything else in here put together."

"Have you told Sam yet? That you're doing this?"

"No."

"Aren't you going to have to, eventually?"

Santana smiles sardonically. "I don't mind keeping secrets from Sam."

"Not even me?"

Santana looks confused. "What?"

"Me. You'll have to keep me a secret."

Santana laughs. "Oh, you're a pale secret in comparison" she says, resting a hand on the microscope. "This is my first love, the one Sam is jealous of. My only, before Jaeger was born. Doing this means I'm giving up on the life we planned together. A life that I knew would cease to exist the moment I turned to this."

"And you're really gonna go through with it?"

Santana shrugs. "I can't stay away from it. I tried, I tried so hard-"

And Quinn interrupts. "That's exactly how I feel about you."


	38. Chapter 38

It's noon and they're both asleep on the couch, tangled in each other in a way Quinn doesn't think she's ever been with anyone before, when Santana's phone rings. A message. From Sam.

"They're coming back tomorrow," Santana says, voice rough. What a way to wake up, from this bubble, to wake up to the world. Quinn packs everything back into her torn trash bag, feeling as desolate as she hasn't in a long time, because she's up, she's awake, and the dream has turned into a nightmare, only this time, she can't ask Finn to hold her.

Santana drives her home, but Quinn asks her to drop her off a couple of blocks away, near some houses in construction. It doesn't matter, that she has to endure whistles and cat calls from the construction site, all she knows is she doesn't want Santana near her house. A trickle of guilt is starting to seep in now that her life is inevitably coming back to her. While she was with Santana, happiness stopped her from thinking, but now, everything is coming full-force.

................................

She steps into the foyer and feels sadness, coming back to this house after what feels like so long, a house that's empty, uninteresting by comparison, a house that she suspects not even Daisy's laughter or Elliott's quiet footsteps will ever be able to make alive again.

She's deep in her thoughts until Willow startles her out of them, her eyes hovering over her and her trash bag darkly. "Where the fuck where you?"

Quinn tries to remain calm. "Willow, language. Do I talk to you like that when you come home at three o'clock in the morning?"

"I'm not a mother of three. What were you thinking, leaving us here alone, you didn't even say where you were going-"

"You weren't alone, Millie was here-"

Willow's voice is rising octave by octave, and Quinn shuts the door behind her, hoping that will keep in the sound. "Yeah, the first day. You were gone three. You have two children under the age of eight, who did you think was going to feed them, and bathe them and-"

"You, Willow, of course. You're always saying how you're so grown up and I don't trust you and the one time I ask you to help out a little bit-"

"You didn't ask, you just left. I called you like fifty times, I was so worried something had happened I almost called Daddy -"

This stops Quinn on her tracks. "Did you... did you call him?"

"No. Millie told me to wait. Said if you weren't back by today, we'd call him."

Quinn holds in a relieved sigh, just barely. "Is Millie here already?"

"Yeah. She got here about an hour ago. At least she can be counted on."

"Willow, I would appreciate if you didn't tell your father-"

"That you were gone? Why? Are you cheating on him?"

Quinn is surprised by the straightforwardness of the question, but Willow interprets it as something else. "Of course you're not, why am I even asking? You're too boring to ever do anything like that." She pauses. "Where were you?"

"I was at your grandma's. She wasn't feeling well."

Willow looks at her suspiciously. "You hate grandma."

"Don't be ridiculous, I don't hate grandma."

"And you couldn't have called?"

"You know how your grandmother is, she didn't want anybody to know. That's why I'm asking you not to tell your father."

Willow makes a face, but nods. "Fine. But you're gonna need to explain this to the kids. They've been asking about you. Especially Elliott. He hasn't slept a wink since you left."

Quinn nods, and with a heavy heart, drags her bag all the way to her room. There she finds Millie, who is cleaning the windows. The light strikes bright in Quinn's eyes and she flinches. "Will you draw the curtains, please?"

Millie nods and stops her cleaning, untying the heavy drapes and pulling them into their usual place. She tries to scurry out of the room, but Quinn stops her. "Millie, I... thank you for asking Willow not to call Finn. And for watching over my kids."

Millie nods, eyes glued to the floor. "No worries, Miss Quinn. Are you all right?"

"Yes, it's just that my mother was sick and-"

"I figured. You don't have to explain."

She glances at the trash bag resting on the floor next to Quinn. "You need me throw that out?"

"Oh, no. These are my clothes."

Millie nods. "You want me to wash them?"

"Oh, would you, please?"

Millie picks up the bag and begins sorting through it, discarding most of the items into a clothes hamper. She doesn't say anything when she comes upon the fluffy aqua dress, just tosses into the dry cleaning pile. But Quinn's staring at it like it's alive, and blushing a bright red, and she turns to Millie.

"You can have that, if you want."

But Millie shakes her head. "Oh, no, Miss Quinn, it's your favorite-"

"No, seriously Millie, take it. I can't have it hanging in my closet."

"But Miss Quinn-"

"If you don't want it, then please throw it out. I don't want it in here."

"OK, Miss, I 'll put it in the charity pile-"

"No. I want it gone before Finn gets home."

Millie, finally catching on, nods and exits the room with it, carrying it delicately over one arm.

....................................

As soon as she lays eyes on Finn, she feels sick to her stomach. He never tells her when he's coming home, because he likes to surprise her. Today he's wearing khaki pants and a white shirt, looking more handsome than she remembers, and carrying a bouquet of blue hydrangeas. Before she can stop herself, she asks "Blue? Why blue?"

Finn gives her a funny look and shrugs. "Hi to you too, hon."

Quinn shakes it off and laughs. "I'm sorry," and kisses Finn on the mouth.

He's never brought her blue flowers before, and it isn't until she's setting them on a vase that she realizes she doesn't like them, doesn't like blue flowers at all.

When they get into bed, Finn wants to touch her. Her body's reaction repulses her, because she wants to, because she's curious to see if after Santana it feels the same, but knows she can't, because guilt and shame might make her burst into tears at any moment. Finn says he understands when she says no, unable to look him in the eye.

"Quinn, it's OK. It's fine. We don't have to do it all the time."

She cries with guilt and shame anyway, and she was wrong because Finn is here, and he's holding her, without her even having to ask.

.......................................

Telling Finn she wants to skip church is the last thing in the world Quinn would do. She wishes she could fake sick, but he'd never believe it, just pretend to, and that would be even worse. Quinn never gets sick, one of the disadvantages of leading such a healthy life, but feels sick so often that she thinks she must be a hypochondriac.

Finn's brought her a new dress to wear to church, from New York, an A-line in white, with a coral sash tied around the middle. She wonders if he doesn't know her size anymore, or if she has lost weight, because it feels big and baggy on her. She remembers Willow calling her a hypocrite the last time she wore white, only this time she really is one. The dress feels too short, and too bare around the shoulders, so she finds some nude pantyhose and a pale green cover-up and feels the ugliest she has felt in her life.

Willow is wearing jeans again, daring Quinn to tell her otherwise, because she knows herself powerful, but Quinn can't bring herself to care. Finn has already dressed Elliott, in clothes he's beginning to outgrow, and Quinn wonders how she never noticed before. She's grateful to Finn, for not saying anything about how he needs new ones, or about how Daisy's tutu looks more gray than pink. They all look an awful mess, Quinn thinks, except for Finn, but there is no time to fix it, and she doesn't know that it can ever be fixed.

The possibility of Santana being at church never occurred to her, because her and Sam don't go very often. She doesn't notice her, not until they walk up to their usual pew and she feels her stomach turn when she realizes Santana and Sam are seated just in front of them, Jaeger between them. Finn taps Sam on the shoulder, and Sam breaks out into a big grin when he sees him.

"Hey, bro. Long time no see."

They both laugh and Santana and Jaeger turn around. Jaeger grins at Elliott, who smiles back shyly, and Quinn and Santana lock eyes for a second before Santana looks away, smiling tightly. Quinn can't bring herself to say anything, so she doesn't, just gives Jaeger an affectionate tap on the head.

Service starts and she can't hear a word of it, and can't see anything but the way Santana's hair in front of her catches the light. She shakes it off and tries to focus, because if she has ever been interested in seeing God, it's now. She wants so badly, to get on her knees and pray the most earnest prayer anyone in the world has ever prayed.

Keep her away from me. Don't hold up before me what I can't have.

............................

They're at brunch with her parents and Judy is frowning at her nearly empty plate. "Why don't you eat more, Quinn? That's why you never have any energy."

"I'm a vegetarian, mom, remember?"

Judy shakes her head in disapproval, like she's been doing for the past 20 years, since Quinn became a vegetarian at sixteen, after she found out exactly what it was that happened to the animals at their ranch.

"You know, I've always thought that was weak minded of you."

Finn lays a hand on Quinn's thigh. Later, when they're alone at the table, he turns to her.

"Did something happen with Santana?"

Quinn's heart beats in her chest like a caged animal. "No. Why?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. You guys didn't really talk at church. I thought... maybe something had happened when you went to get Willow. How did that go, by the way?"

"Oh, it went fine. You know Willow."

Willow comes by the table that instant and shoots them both an irritated look. "You guys talking about me?"

Finn laughs. "Caught red-handed. How was camp?"

She shrugs. "Not what I thought it was gonna be."

Everyone begins coming back to the table. Finn pats the empty chair next to him and Willow sits.

"What about camp?" Judy asks.

Quinn, Willow and Finn all eye each other, and finally, Willow says, shrugging it off. "I quit and came home. Mom didn't tell you?"

Quinn shuts her eyes tightly for a minute, as Judy answers. "Your mother never tells me anything."

To Quinn's surprise, Willow purses her lips at Judy. "I don't think you should talk about her that way when she-"

"When she what?"

"When I nothing," Quinn answers quickly. She turns to her husband desperately. "Finn."

Finn breaks it up quickly. "So, Willow, I hope you didn't forget to thank Santana for going all that way to pick you up."

"No, I... I mean, I think I thanked her."

"You didn't," Quinn says automatically.

Finn looks at his daughter sternly. "Well, make sure you do. It's not any person that would drive such a long way just to do someone a favor."

Willow turns to her mother, slightly open-mouthed. "You didn't pay her?"

"She refused to take our money."

"But... she doesn't even know me."

Finn smiles. "She wasn't doing it for you."

Willow looks up and meets her mother's eyes. She has never been struck by them before, because she has known them since she was a child. They were the first eyes she ever looked into, and, when she was little, she had thought other people were strange for not having Quinn's eyes instead of the other way around. But today, the allure in them sits there, plain as ever, and Willow can't believe she ever missed it. Her mother's eyes are bewitching, bewitching enough to make someone want to drive five hundred miles to the middle of nowhere, just so they can keep looking into them.

.............................

Quinn feels like she's disappearing. She locks herself in their room as soon as they get home, making sure to keep Finn out. He can sense she's in some kind of mood, so he doesn't push it, simply stays in the living room, watching replays of the last game with Willow. She lays face down on the bed and almost feels like she's watching herself from above, and she wonders how many girls in the world are like her now, laying in bed, wearing their Sunday best and feeling so utterly miserable.

She needs something, to reassure her that she's doing the right thing, something that will let her know that giving up on what she wants most is actually the right thing, even when it feels like anything but. She looks underneath their TV frantically, and finds the DVD she was looking for, the one of their wedding. It's not very long, only about twenty minutes, and, truthfully, she's never watched it before. Now, she plays it over and over again, several times, and wonders if maybe she should watch it every morning, just to remind herself of her commitment. Can I watch this every day and believe in love again?, she wonders.

The thought surprises her. Since when doesn't she believe in love? Was it just wiped from her in a couple of seconds? She wonders how her love for Finn could have dissipated in what seems like a matter of minutes, how there can be nothing left of the one thing that she thought made up her life as a whole. But it's gone and she's still here, barely clinging, but still here. The truth is, even though she's so disgusted with herself, she wants to be alive more than she's ever wanted to before. She knows what that thing that's keeping her clinging to life is. She keeps thinking back to that first night with Santana.

She had been surprised to find that her first time with another woman hurt. It hadn't with Finn. Truthfully, she had been glad to get it over with, the thing everyone made such a big deal about that wasn't really a big deal at all, she figured out later. Not when you were a housewife, a mother, when you'd rather use the time to sleep, since sleep was so hard to come by for her that every moment of it was precious. Except, these past couple of nights with Santana, she hadn't given a fuck about sleep. Didn't even seem to need it, running around in a state of constant excitement.

Maybe what had hurt was the realization that she was cheating on Finn, but it felt deeper, sharper than that. It was odd, sharing such an intimate part of yourself with someone, and then having to go back to real life and pretend nothing had happened, when inside you, every piece was broken and rearranging itself, and not in the gentlest of ways. It's made her more vulnerable to the world, this.

It makes everything hurt more, makes her feel like she's made of glass or silk, like her soul has stretched and is not going back to the way it was before. There is no comfort to be found, not even with Santana, because if anyone can hurt her, if there's anyone she can't turn to, if anyone can shatter everything, it's Santana.

She can hear Willow and Finn's laughter from outside; they must be watching TV. Normally, she'd be jumping out of bed to join them, hoping, as a mother always does, that Willow would stay this time and not run at the sight of her. But today, she doesn't even want to.

Where did I get to the point where I don't want my life anymore? She thinks it might have been Santana, but the truth is, she hasn't wanted this life for a long time, maybe ever. Maybe it was never the right door, the right lock, the right key. Maybe she never knew what she wanted, until now, and who knew that wanting could be a responsibility, a weapon? Wanting means that you can't do nothing, it means deciding or watching someone else decide for you. Wanting means taking risks, being vulnerable, or ignoring it all together, but who says that isn't a risk, the biggest risk? It means you can succeed, but it also means you can fail, and maybe not wanting anything at all is better than risking the pain of failing at what you wanted most.

........................................

Quinn hasn't been to ballet class in over two weeks. Santana had been hesitant to go there at first; the first couple of days, she had made Sam drive Jaeger. But then, one day, she just missed Quinn too much, and what she wouldn't have given just to lay eyes on her. So she went, not expecting anything, not expecting to talk, but definitely not expecting that she wouldn't be there at all. And she kept going, every day after that, hoping to run into her, only she never did. It isn't until Wednesday night, as she lies down in bed next to Sam, that she wonders if this isn't just about her, if something could be wrong, if maybe Quinn's sick.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Is everything OK at the Wilkinson's?"

He looks at her oddly. "Yeah. I think so. I mean, how should I know?"

Santana just shrugs, and he regrets his coldness immediately. "Why do you ask?"

"It's just.. you know Finn's wife is Jaeger's ballet teacher, and, well, she hasn't been to class in a while. So I thought something might be wrong."

"No. Not that I know of. But why do you care? I thought you hated her."

"I never said I hated her."

"Well, I always got the impression you two didn't get along."

"You mean you got the impression she hated me?"

Sam shrugs. "I don't think it's that she hates you. She's probably just jealous or something?"

Santana scoffs. "Jealous of me?"

"Yeah."

"Why would she be jealous of me?"

Sam smiles, a rare one. "Look at you, Santana. You're smart and confident and gorgeous... you used to be a model, for crying out loud. Who wouldn't be jealous of you?"

Santana feels like everything in the world except for those three things right now. She sighs heavily, and Sam reaches out, strokes her hair. "So you guys are friends now?"

"I wouldn't exactly say that."

"But you're worried about her?"

Santana pauses for a second, then admits it, grudgingly. "Yeah."

"So why don't you just call her?"

Santana sits up. That might not actually be a bad idea, but then she slumps her shoulders again. "It's late. I don't want to wake up her family."

"Call her cell phone, then?"

"I don't have her number." Of all the stupid things they talked about and did, of everything they said to each other, Santana never thought to ask Quinn for her number.

"I have it. I'll give it to you."

He's already grabbing his cell phone and a pen, and scribbling the number on Santana's arm. She gives him a dry, grateful peck on the lips, and Sam smiles again.

"You're welcome."


	39. Chapter 39

Sorry for the delay, guys. Thanks for your patience.

.................................

Her cell phone rings. Twice. Finn's already asleep and Quinn doesn't recognize the number. She usually doesn't pick up calls from strangers, but this time she just presses whatever button she can, hoping the phone will shut up. Santana's voice comes on, on speaker.

"Quinn?"

She nearly drops the phone in shock, but instead runs into the bathroom and fumbles with it until she can press the speaker to her ear and make sure no one but her can hear Santana.

"Hello? Quinn? Are you there?"

Quinn sighs. "Yeah." But I wish I wasn't.

She pauses. "Who gave you this number?"

"Sam."

"Oh."

"Wrote it across my arm, actually."

"Well, you better scrub that hard."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not sure how I feel about you walking around with my number displayed on your arm."

Santana doesn't mean to say it, but it comes out anyway. "Quinn, that's the least of your problems."

"You think I don't know that?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"My problems started the moment you asked Sam for my number."

"I didn't ask, he volunteered."

"How did that even come up? Were you talking about me?"

"I was worried."

"Worried? Why?"

"You... you haven't shown up to ballet class."

"Why do you think?"

"Because you're avoiding me?"

Quinn sighs. "You shouldn't be worrying about me, Santana. I'm not your responsibility."

"You think I don't know that? You think I don't wish it was different?"

Quinn ignores that last part. "If you know, then why are you calling me?"

"I wanted to make sure you were OK."

"I'm OK."

"Are you? Really?"

Quinn's voice breaks a little. "Yes."

Santana's voice immediately switches to concerned. "What's wrong?"

"What do you mean what's wrong? It doesn't seem like enough to you that I-"

"Oh, I thought you meant something was physically wrong-"

"Yeah, because that could be the worst thing that could happen."

"So what is happening?"

Quinn sighs, frustrated, wishing she had the words to explain what not even she understands.

"I don't know... I just... something's happening to me, and I don't get it, and... Why did you show up to church on Sunday?"

"What?"

"You guys never come to church."

"Sam does."

"Yeah, but not you. Or Jaeger."

"Quinn, no offense, but we have as much of a right to search for God as you do."

"Yeah, right, Santana."

"Yeah, right, what?"

"You don't even believe in God."

"What if I'm starting to change my mind?"

"Since when?"

"Since now. Aren't you?"

"No."

The truth is, she's never been much of a believer. Misery and God have never been the best match, and right now, she feels particularly miserable. In this moment, if she could ask god one question, she knows exactly what it would be.

What am I? And why did you bring me here without asking?

..............................

Santana is restless after their phone call. It ends, not unexpectedly, with Quinn hanging up on her, but not before warning her never to talk to her again. Santana wonders where the Quinn of the last few days went, if she was even real, or something she made up in her head.

Sam is already asleep, or so she thinks, when she goes back to bed, where she tosses and turns in a way most unusual for her. She's finally beginning to doze off when she hears Sam's voice, most unusual at this time of night.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," she says quickly, slightly surprised that Sam can even tell.

"I know I'm not your favorite person in the world, but not even I'm enough of an asshole to not be able to tell when something is wrong with the person I have shared my life with for the past ten years."

Santana turns on her side and stares at Sam, who is laying face-up, hands behind his neck, and very pointedly not looking at her.

"I never said you were an asshole."

"You never say what you think. And tonight's not going to be any different, is it?"

Santana sighs. "What if I can't tell you what's wrong?"

"Then at least tell me if I can help you fix it."

"It's... it has nothing to do with Jaeger, if that's what you're-"

"I know it doesn't have anything to do with Jaeger."

"Oh," is all Santana can say, for once rendered speechless even inside her head. Sam finally turns to look at her.

"Are you cheating on me?"

He delivers the question in a manner so detached that Santana begins to think he might feel just as indifferently about her as she does about him.

"Would you care if I was?"

Sam shrugs. "Wouldn't blame you. It's not like we even have sex."

"Why don't we?"

"Why don't we what?"

"Have sex?"

"Now?"

"No," says Santana, flustered. "I mean, why don't we, anymore?"

"Oh, was that a rhetorical question?" Sam asks, with a wicked grin.

Santana smiles a little. "Yeah."

"Well, you never want to."

"Do you? I mean, would you, if I...?"

"Yeah, Santana. Duh."

"Really? Still? After all this time?"

"Is it that shocking to you? That I still care about you after all this time?"

"I just... I don't.. How can you love-"

"I never said I loved you, I said I cared about you."

"Yeah, Sam, I think it's pretty clear to both of us that you don't love me."

"Santana, I... you know that word isn't part of my vocabulary. It's never been. You knew that when we-"

"I know, Sam. It wasn't a word I frequented back then either."

"I still think you're really hot, if that's what you're wondering. I find you as attractive as I did the first day I met you."

Santana smiles in spite of herself, at Sam's version of kindness.

"You can't say the same, can you?"

Santana is taken aback by the question.

"Yeah. No. I mean-"

"It's OK, Santana. You don't have to. Were you ever?"

"What? Attracted to you?"

"Yeah."

"Of course I was." But even as she says it, she knows it's a lie, even if she hadn't known it back then. Now, everything before Quinn seems like a lie.

Did I ever even like men?, she wonders as she sighs.

"It's not your fault, Sam."

"It isn't?"

"No," she says, looking at him in disbelief. "Did you seriously think-"

"What was I supposed to think, Santana? Of course I thought it was my fault. I mean, you didn't seem to have a problem with me at first-"

"I still don't have a problem with you."

"No, you just don't like me very much anymore. If you ever did at all."

"Of course I liked you."

"No. I liked you. You liked that I was into you, and you liked that I admired you, and you liked that I didn't ask you to be anything other than who you were. You liked that I didn't ask you to change... Hell, I didn't even ask you to like me back. All I wanted was to be close to you."

"Yeah, but in all fairness, Sam, it was never my personality you were into."

"I liked it that you were smart," Sam says grudgingly.

"Liked. In past tense. Once you had to deal with it, you didn't like it so much anymore."

Sam sighs. "How did we hurt each other so badly?"

Santana shrugs. "That's life."

"I wish we could go back and change it."

"You do?"

"Yeah."

"In order to change it... we'd have to not end up together."

"And then we wouldn't have Jaeger."

They look at each other, the one thing they're in agreement on. Santana sighs.

"We would never give up Jaeger. For anything."

Sam shakes his head. "I don't want to give you up either, Santana."

And then Quinn's face flashes into her head, and Santana can picture her, holding the phone and hiding somewhere, terrified of the truth, of her feelings, and now, of her memories. She can hear her voice, muffled over the line.

I don't want you to talk to me.

I want you to leave me alone.

It was a mistake.

I don't want to see you again.

I regret every minute of what happened.

Stop trying to hurt me.

Please.

And next thing she knows, Sam has his hand on her cheek, and he's rolling over her on the bed, and she feels a terrible curiosity to know, if maybe he can make her feel something, if maybe not all is lost, if maybe she does like men after all.

.............................

It doesn't really solve anything. She just feels more confused, if possible, and she still can't sleep, even though, now, Sam is snoring loudly beside her. She snorts in annoyance; she had forgotten he used to do this. She had forgotten, too, how empty and unlike herself this whole thing made her feel; how she had at one point even considered that maybe sex just wasn't for her. Except now she knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it isn't true.

She gets up and goes to her closet, where she finds the dress she wore that night to the charity ball. It might just be the only dress she owns, so she slips it on, gathers her hair into a bun at the top of her head and smudges some eyeshadow on the corners of her eyes.

She gets in her truck and drives past city limits, following the voice of her GPS. Finally, she's there, parked outside, watching women pouring in and out of this place like butterflies, like it's morning and not 2 a.m. It takes her a while to decide, whether to go in or not, but eventually, curiosity gets the best of her. Here is what she always wanted to know, and now is the chance to know.

She knows she looks out of place in her long dress when all the other women are wearing much more casual, and shorter clothing, but the truth is, no one seems to mind, and from the moment she steps inside, she is inundated with requests for dancing and drinks. It makes her smile, if she had known it would be this easy, she would have come here a long time ago. Maybe then there would be no Quinn.

The thought instantly sobers her. If there were no Quinn, if there had never been, maybe she wouldn't know what she knows now, the unequivocal truth, that she belongs in this place, maybe more so than she has ever belonged in any other one before. She had always been certain her place, her only place in the world, was behind a microscope, alone, because she didn't particularly care for other people. But she can see herself here too, albeit a new version of herself, one she hadn't, until this particular moment in time, known she was.

She dances with a couple of women, knows she could go home with any of them, but maybe she's had enough so-called intimacy for tonight. Maybe she's had enough to last her a lifetime.

.................................

She shows up to teach her class when she can't avoid it any longer, when even Finn is starting to suspect something might be wrong. She walks there and feels like she's going to her own funeral, and maybe she would have never even made it if Daisy hadn't been dragging her along the whole way, desperate to go back to the one thing she loved most in the world.

Lucky girl, Quinn thinks, that she can love something and not someone, that she can be free to love whomever she chooses. For a split second, she wonders about Elliott, wonders if he's ever felt like her, but then shakes her head. He's too young to be thinking about those things, she's the one who has her mind in the gutter, because she cheated on the one person who's ever truly loved her for who she is, or at least, for who they both thought she was. And yet she can't shake the thought off, yet again, that maybe Elliott is the way he is because of her.

Her heart stops as soon as she spots Jaeger's unmistakably blond head among those of her other students, but then she looks around and realizes her fears where unfounded. Instead, Sam is here, watching his son with that dumb, indulgent smile that days before, Quinn had found adorable. He grins at her, but she doesn't return it, instead focuses on trying to find her Ipod inside her gym bag, only to realize that somebody, somewhere, has already put on some music. Somewhere far away, someone is playing a song, and it is breaking Quinn's heart.

Sam approaches her after class, and Quinn wonders at her own uncanny ability to attract the very things she doesn't want into her life.

"Hey, Quinn."

She forces out a smile. "Hey."

"How you doin'?"

"Great. You?"

"Good. Did Santana ever end up calling you last night?"

"Yeah. She did."

Sam smiles. "I'm glad. She was worried about you."

"She had no reason to be."

"That's what I told her. That there had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation for you not showing up to class."

Quinn coughs a little. "As a matter of fact, she knew there was."

Sam nods, and Quinn asks what she swore to herself she wouldn't. "Why didn't she come today?"

"She was tired. She's been in bed all day."

"That's weird of her," Quinn says automatically.

"Yeah. Didn't even get up to go running. I think it's the first time she hasn't since I've known her."

"And you're not worried?"

"No. I... I think we might have had some sort of breakthrough last night."

"Breakthrough?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'm sure she's told you... that our relationship wasn't... the best it's ever been, but... I think we might be able to fix it."

"Do you?"

"Yeah," Sam says with a lazy smile. "Maybe."

......................................

"Mom. Get up."

It is the only voice in the world that could make her get out of bed at this point, and she silently thanks life that at least she isn't without salvation. Quinn's kids' voices, she knows, can't even get her up anymore, but Jaeger isn't used to going even twenty-four hours without his mom. He rolls over her and presses his cheek to hers. His breath smells like peanut-butter and she scrunches up her nose.

"You need to brush your teeth, kid."

"How am I supposed to remember to brush my teeth if you're not there to remind me?"

Santana smiles in spite of herself. "You spoiled brat."

Jaeger shrugs, like he knows and couldn't care less. "I actually made my breakfast myself, you know that?"

Santana frowns, sitting up. "Where's your father?"

"He's gone, mom. They left yesterday."

Santana gets up immediately. "Shit. Why didn't you say something? You gotta get to school."

"I know. That's why I'm waking you up."

Santana pulls on some sweats and a t-shirt over her pajamas. "What did you have for breakfast? Peanut butter?"

"Right out of the jar."

Santana snorts. "Come on, let's go."

Jaeger follows her into the gargage, climbs on the front seat of the truck. "Dad didn't tell you he was leaving?"

"He might have. I mean, I was asleep."

"You were asleep for a long time."

"How do you know?"

"I was watching you."

"You creep."

.............................

Miraculously, Jaeger manages to make it into school just before they close the gate. Santana parks the car outside for a few minutes after, trying to recover. If there is anything she can never forgive herself for, it's those times when she has put herself, or anyone else, before Jaeger, and she curses Quinn in her head as she turns on her truck and starts to drive away.

Almost as if summoning her, she spots Quinn's blonde hair on the sidewalk a few feet ahead of her. What is it about this woman that makes all of her will-power vanish into thin air? She slows down and rolls down her window.

"Morning."

Quinn nearly jumps out of her skin, and it would be funny if it wasn't also so heartbreaking. She looks exhausted and miserable, and the immediate pull Santana feels toward her makes her wonder if, in spite of all her self-proclaimed simplicity, she doesn't have a strange affinity for the dramatic. She also wonders if Quinn looks like this because Finn is gone, or if she owes it all to her.

"You scared me to death," Quinn mutters angrily, and keeps on walking.

"I didn't mean to."

"Right."

"I mean, I drive a huge truck, I would have thought you would have heard it driving up behind you."

"I was... preoccupied thinking about other things."

"Really? What things?"

"Wasn't I sufficiently clear the night I told you not to talk to me again?"

Santana hits the brakes abruptly and swings the passenger door open. "Get in the truck."

"What? No."

"Quinn, get in the fucking truck."

There are cars lining up behind Santana now, several of which have started to honk.

"Santana, you're causing a scene."

"No, you are. Get in the truck."

Quinn jumps in, thinking things will only get worse if someone recognizes her. Santana seems to read her mind.

"Don't worry, they didn't look familiar."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Where are we going?"

Santana shrugs. "Where do you want to go?"

"I don't want to go anywhere with you."

"Not what you were saying not so long ago."

Quinn has the decency to blush. "When are you going to stop torturing me? What happened with us is over."

"Not for me." And it's true. She had known, the moment she'd seen Quinn's blonde hair glinting in the sunlight.

"How can you be such a liar?"

"Huh?"

"I talked to your husband yesterday."

"He's not my husband."

"Whatever. Apparently, you two are doing better than ever."

"And you believed him?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know, Quinn. Because I just spent a significant number of days fucking you and... you think I was faking that?"

Quinn bites her lip. "I don't know."

Santana raises her eyebrows. "Really? You don't know?"

Quinn looks away.

"Quinn, look at me."

But her eyes remained glued to the floor.

"Do you need me to show you again, what it meant-"

"Santana, please don't-"

But Santana has already parked the truck and unbuckled her seat belt, and she's reaching across and pulling Quinn to her, until her lips are on hers and Quinn, once again, feels like she knows everything.


	40. Chapter 40

She's never had it like this before. She's never felt this fascination for anyone, not for anything. She briefly remembers her childhood dreams, and watches them disappear into dust, because this is all she never knew she wanted. She just wants to smell, to get her hands on as much skin as possible. For the first time in her life, she's truly hungry and it makes her feel alive, so much she bites and claws her way through Santana's body. Just when she had stopped thinking she wanted, when she thought she had lost her ability to want, this hits her in the middle of the stomach like thunder.

"Shit, Santana. Fuck."

Santana stops. Quinn lifts her head to look at her and catches her mid-laugh, chuckling softly.

"What?"

"I've never heard you curse before."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

...................................

Being with Santana is unlearning everything Quinn thought she knew. She had always thought of sex as something where you let yourself go. She had never been an active participant, just a willing body. She had always thought of it as something gentle, mildly pleasant, but definitely overrated.

Today, Santana's left all her clothes on, and Quinn can feel the roughness of them, pressed against her bare skin. She isn't wearing a single thing, everything has been discarded, and the sheets of Santana's bed feel cool against her back. Santana pins her down, trails a line of kisses from her jawline to her neck. Part of her long hair brushes against Quinn's nose, and she takes a deep breath. She knows, now, exactly how Santana smells, and the scent of her shampoo, soap, or whatever the hell it is sends a pang all through her body.

Suddenly, with an energy unusual for her, she flips Santana over on the bed so she's on top. Santana grins, confused.

"What's up?"

Quinn smiles down at her. "Nothing."

"Things not going to your liking?"

"Not exactly."

She buries her face in the crook of Santana's neck, starts licking the shell of her ear.

"Quinn?"

"What?"

"What are you- " She almost breaks into a moan, but stops herself just in time. For her, unlike Quinn, sex has never been about letting go. It's always been about holding in.

Quinn snorts. "I can't believe you."

"What?"

"Am I going to have to drag every single noise out of you?"

"Maybe."

Quinn sucks on the skin of her neck. Santana gasps a little and Quinn laughs low. "Turn over."

"What?"

"Get on your stomach."

Santana does, feeling a little like maybe she should resist, not give in so easily, just because, but in the end, she finds no willpower to fight Quinn and ends up doing exactly what she says.

"Good," Quinn says, satisfied. Santana feels her sit down on the back of her thighs, straddling her. She bends forward, to move Santana's hair out of the way, and then plants a kiss on the nape of her neck. Santana shivers and buries her face into the mattress, glad it's there because she feels seconds away from screaming. Quinn seems to sense this, and, set on getting any kind of sound out of her, bends over Santana's body so her nipples are grazing gently across Santana's bare back.

"Jesus fucking christ, Quinn."

"What?"

"Where in the world did you learn-"

"I'm making it up as I go along, believe it or not."

Santana doesn't know if she believes it or not, but she doesn't care. "Are you sure you haven't been watching-"

"Santana."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"I thought you wanted me to make noise."

"I do. But not that kind of noise."

Quinn kisses and licks down her spine until she's a shivering mess. Santana's never felt this vulnerable in her life before, like she's diving off a cliff and hoping, just hoping, that there will be an ocean beneath.

Quinn flips her over again, then spreads her legs open and bites the inside of her thigh. They've never done this before, Santana had expected that they maybe never would, and she was OK with it. She knew it wasn't Quinn's favorite thing to talk about, and it was something Santana thought she might never want to do. She tilts her chin up gently with one hand, and looks into her eyes.

"You don't have to."

Quinn's eyes go soft. "Oh, Santana. I want to."

She tilts her head back and shuts her eyes tightly at the sensation of Quinn's tongue on her, but then thinks better of it and props herself back on her elbows so she can watch. If there is one thing in her life she's not gonna miss out on watching, it's this.

She thinks Quinn will be embarrassed, maybe even stop, but instead she stares right into her eyes as she continues licking. Santana bites her lip, trying not to moan, and Quinn stops.

"Quinn..."

She grins wickedly."Yeah?"

"You fucking tease."

"Tell me what you want."

"You know what I want."

"Then stop holding back."

Santana shakes her head, whispers. "I can't."

"Why?"

"I want you so bad I could do anything, I don't-"

"It's fine."

"What?"

"Whatever you want to do. It's fine."

Santana nods before shutting her eyes quickly and pushing Quinn's face back between her legs. "Lick me, Quinn. Please lick me."

Quinn grins a little smugly before sinking back down. For the ever analytical Santana, even sex has been something she has to focus on to get it just right. Orgasms have always required her full concentration, but this one takes her by surprise, like there was an ocean underneath the cliff after all, and it's tide's carried her through.

Quinn kisses the inside of her thigh, where she bit her before, and rests her head there for a while. When she finally looks up, there are tears running quick down Santana's cheeks, and what Santana will never be able to tell her is that for the first time in her life she is wondering why a moment can't last forever.

If you could keep only one memory, what would it be?

It would be this one, Santana thinks. Over Jaeger, over Matt. It would be this one.

...........................................

Santana pushes Quinn away gently and, on all fours, crawls on the floor.

"What in the world are you doing?"

But Santana, silently, pulls out a shoebox from under the bed, and from inside it, some cigarettes and a lighter. She lies back down next to Quinn as she lights the cigarette between her lips. Quinn frowns at her.

"I didn't know you smoked."

"Stopped after Jaeger was born."

"You mean before Jaeger was born."

"No."

"You smoked while you were pregnant?" Quinn asks, slightly alarmed.  
Santana shrugs. "Been doin' it since I was sixteen. Hard habit to kick." She takes another drag and runs her hand through Quinn's messy hair, laughing softly.

"He turned out all right, didn't he?"

...................................

If Santana expects Quinn to turn up at her house within the next few days, she's disappointed. By the third day, she stops expecting her to show up and just sighs heavily. She knows, now, that Quinn will be back. It's just a question of when.

.....................................

Quinn has to admit that the silence of Santana's house is in stark contrast to the noise in her own. Maybe that's part of what makes it seem so appealing, and she almost resents the fact that she has to go back to her own house at all, particularly since Finn isn't there.

Which is exactly why you need to be there, a voice says in her head. Before, she couldn't wait to get out of the house and go to her parents' when Finn was gone; now, she wants to get out just as badly, only it's not her parents' house she wants to go to. If anyone notices this, they don't comment on it. Caroline is probably relieved to not have her around, and Willow, afraid that if she says something, it will look too much like she cares.

Still, it's not like Quinn can be running in and out of her house whenever she likes. As a matter of fact, if given a choice, she wouldn't even be in there at all. She tells Santana as much, one night over the phone, and isn't expecting to be chided on her parenting habits, least of all by Santana, who appears to her to be the most lax parent ever.

"What about your kids?"

"What about them?"

"Well, you wouldn't just leave them alone, would you?"  
"They're not alone, Millie's here. And Willow."

"Yeah, but they need their mother."

"I know that Santana. Stop acting like I don't love my children."

"Then start acting like you do."

"You seriously think I don't love them?"  
It strikes Santana, then, the kind of love that Quinn is able to provide. Boundless, limitless, but without commitment or compromise. Quinn's love is the kind that makes grand gestures and sacrifices, but Santana's is the boring kind, that packs a lunch every day and tells a bedtime story every night; routine as anything. They're fundamentally incompatible, she thinks, then wonders why she's even worrying about this, when she shouldn't even be thinking about love at all.

.....................

As soon as her feet hit the floor, she knows it's going to be one of those mornings. Willow's yells, coming from someplace near the kitchen, startle her awake, and she races there, not even bothering to put on her slippers.

"Mamma!"

"Yeah, what, what is it?"

Willow is holding a struggling Daisy under one arm, and wiping Elliott's mouth with a napkin with the other.

"Daisy don't wanna go to school, and Elliott and I are going to be late. I can't be dealing with this shit."

She releases Daisy, who collapses on to a wailing pile on the floor, and then runs out, pushing Elliott in front of her.

Quinn stares at her daughter, slightly shell-shocked. Since Finn wasn't home, Willow was now responsible for taking herself and her brother to school. Quinn had thought, in what she had convinced herself was not a ploy to get rid of her daughter and rush over to Santana's, that it was as good a time as any to get Daisy into some sort of preschool. So far, Daisy's first two days there had passed uneventfully, but Quinn had always suspected it was one of those situations that were too good to be lasting and true.

She leaves Daisy on the floor and makes her way to the kitchen, to make herself some coffee. Eventually, she hears sniffles and steps making their way to her, and feels a hand tugging on her robe.

"Mamma."

"Yeah, baby."

"Hungwy."

Quinn nods and picks up her daughter, sitting her in the high chair she's probably too old to still use, but which Quinn insists on because it gives her a break from having to chase a toddler around the house. She grabs a bowl and a box of fruit loops from the top of the fridge, then pours Daisy some and sets them in front of her. She pulls out a gallon of milk from the fridge, which she's forced to set down next to Daisy's cereal when the house phone starts to ring.

Her heart leaps and she races to the nearest receiver. She answers breathlessly, skipping the usual Wilkinson residence in favor of a rather desperate sounding Santana, which she flinches at as soon as it falls from her lips, trying to think of a quick explanation, just in case it isn't Santana. It isn't her, as a matter of fact, but she's saved from having to explain because it's just a telemarketer, and she slams down the phone without the slightest trace of guilt. She feels irritated, not only at the most inopportune phone call, but at herself.

When she comes back to the kitchen, she finds Daisy has spilled her fruit loops and all the milk from the gallon, in what she would have noticed was an obvious attempt at trying to pour her own milk if she hadn't already been so exasperated. She shoots Daisy a furious glance as she grabs a rag to wipe the milk off the floor. While she's on her knees, she feels something hit her on the face; Daisy is throwing the few remaining Fruit Loops on her high chair straight at her.

Quinn doesn't know what comes over her, only that this is more than she can take, and before she knows it, she feels her fingers grazing Daisy's cheek quick and hears her daughter's inconsolable wails.

She doesn't know what she would have done if Millie hadn't come through the doors just then. She looks at her, eyes wide and a little frightened, but resolute. She picks up Daisy from the high chair and wraps her own arms around her, walking away.

"Millie. Wait."

She stops and turns to look at Quinn.

"Where are you taking her?"

She is as calm as Quinn is distraught. "To change, Miss Quinn. She's soaking wet."

Quinn feels stupid for even asking, and just nods. Daisy's not crying anymore; she's playing with Millie's hair, obviously completely over what happened no more than a few minutes ago.

But Quinn doesn't think she will ever be over it, particularly not after the way Millie looked at her, so she does the only thing she can think to do, feeling glad and grateful that at least for once in her life, she has found somewhere to run to; an effective way (she doesn't want to think about the fact that it might be temporary) to tame her sadness.

..................................

Quinn's on her doorstep, disheveled and sweaty, and Santana thinks she looks almost edible; the pained look on her face easily overshadowed by the constant, accelerated beating of Santana's heart.

It isn't until she sees that Quinn is wearing but one shoe that it strikes her that something might be wrong.

"Where's your other sandal?"

Quinn shrugs carelessly.

"Did you run all the way over here?"  
Quinn nods as she makes her way inside the house. Santana follows her to the kitchen, watches her have a seat by the kitchen table.

"I slapped Daisy."

Santana raises her eyebrows at her, but says nothing. Quinn looks at her defiantly.

"Come on. Say it."

"Say what?"

"What you're thinking."

"Enlighten me, Quinn. What am I thinking?"

"That I'm an awful mother, a terrible person, a shitty-"

"Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Stop."

"But I am."

"Quinn, let me remind you that it just so happens that you actually have no idea what I think."

"Yeah, but how could you think anything else?"

Santana smiles easily. "Guera, you have a lot of talents, but you are still a long way from being able to read my mind."

"So you don't think I'm a bad person? How can you even want me around? Do you want me around?"

Santana sighs. "You're a human being, Quinn. I would never want you to be anything more than that."

"But you never lose your temper with Jaeger."

"I do other things."

"Like what?"

"Now's not the time." She pauses. "Why did you come running here, if you thought I was gonna judge you?"

"I don't know. I never know exactly what it is that brings me here."

"I do."

"You do?"

"Yes. You're at my doorstep whenever things aren't perfect at home. You can't just keep doing this, you know."

"It makes everything go away."

Santana shakes her head. "It's an illusion. Not the solution to your problems."

"Things would be so different if-"

"They wouldn't be. Trust me. They wouldn't."

"Yes they would, if we... if I'd know. Before. That I was-"

"You aren't even gay, you know you aren't."

"If I'd known you before, then."

"I'd just be another Finn."

"No, you wouldn't. How dare you? You think I'm just some desperate housewife who goes around-"

"Aren't you?"

Quinn looks so defeated that she doesn't even take offense. "Sometimes I think I might be."

"Ever told Finn that?"

"No, I could never say that to him."

"I thought he was your best friend."

"He is, but-"

"He's a man. That's what they never tell you, huh?"

"What?"

"They say having a husband is supposed to complete you. But that's impossible. It's impossible, because from the moment you're not the same sex, they already don't understand. There's a huge part of your life they're never going to understand."

Santana isn't talking about makeup or clothes or fashion, and yet Quinn knows she's right. There was always a gap with Finn where there isn't a gap with Santana, they can be forehead to forehead, chest to chest, one person, same anatomy, same beating heart. No negative spaces, just skin, skin, skin and no room for anything in between. And maybe that was what makes this game so dangerous. If you lose, there is no space to retreat to, no safe playing ground. Either everything is Santana or it isn't at all, there is no getting away from this, and no going into it without having to face it, head on.

..................................

"So you're really gonna do this?"

"Why not? You don't wanna go out, and I'm sick of ordering take-out."

Santana shrugs. "Fine. Help yourself to whatever you need."

Quinn opens the pantry, pulls out a box of pasta.

"Have you ever even cooked anything before?"

"Of course I have."

"Really? Like what?"

"Cookies."

"That's not cooking, that's baking."

"Same difference."

She chops vegetables as she talks, struggling with the knife, but determined.

"Anything else?"

"I don't get why people make such a big deal about this. Like it's fucking hard. You just follow a set of give instructions, there's really not that much to it."

"There isn't?"

"No. You know, up until a few years ago, I didn't even know how to make an egg. And then one day I had to make one and I realized I didn't know how."

"And?"

"And so I Googled 'How to make an egg'. And it all turned out fine."

Santana won't believe it until she's seen it, but it turns out Quinn's right. She tries the pasta tentatively, and laughs with her mouth still full.

Quinn stares at her. "Well?"

Santana laughs again. "Who would have though? The white girl can actually cook."


	41. Chapter 41

Once upon a time, days without Finn used to crawl by slowly, and now, Quinn feels like they don't last nearly long enough. It used to seem like he was always going away, but now it feels like he's always coming back.

She doesn't like seeing Santana while Finn is home, because it feels more like cheating than when he isn't. She won't even take her phone calls, and their interactions are reduced to text messaging instead. She sets her phone on silent and feels her heart soar every time she sees the screen light up.

Morning, beautiful.

Finn's called her beautiful many times before, and she always appreciated it, but somehow she never felt the word like this, like a shiver running through and stopping between her legs, like the one thing that paralyzes everything.

The smile on her face makes Finn smile too.

"Why are you so happy this morning?"

She puts her phone away. "Kitty sent me a funny picture..."

Quinn knows she should be hiding her phone and deleting all of Santana's messages, but Finn's never been one to look through her stuff, and she doesn't see a reason for him to start now. Besides, the truth is, she keeps Santana's messages like the most precious of all collections, not a single item of which she could bear to part with.

..........................

 

Up until that afternoon, Santana had thought there was only one person she could tell everything to. And she had, and he was happy for her, maybe because he didn't like Sam, or maybe because he wanted her to be happy, or maybe because he really had no notion of right and wrong.

"I wanna see her."

"Huh?"

"Send me a picture of her."

Santana grins. She has a bunch to chose from, some taken with Quinn's consent and others without. She would be mortified if she knew Santana had pictures of her sleeping, no makeup on, but looking twice as beautiful without it, the morning light cast over her eyelids like the most luminescent eye shadow. She has funny ones too, of Quinn frowning as she struggles to peel a potato, and who knew Santana would actually enjoy taking pictures of someone other than her son?

She picks out her favorite one and presses send. She took it a couple of weeks ago, when they were standing in front of her bathroom mirror, and Quinn, topless and in jeans, was licking her cheek as Santana stared straight into the mirror.

Her phone vibrates with an answer almost right away, and she grins, expecting a reply that falls somewhere along the lines of Gross. Instead, she's greeted by a Santana, WTF? and she stares at it for a couple of seconds before she realizes she's sent the picture to none other than Tina Chang.

She can't think of anything else to do, so she sends a single-word reply that pretty much sums up her feelings.

Shit.

.................................

She hears the knocks at her door and knows at once it isn't Quinn, though she has a pretty good idea of who it might be. She opens cautiously, but Tina is already bursting into the house and plopping herself down on the couch.

"Explain. Now."

Santana sighs heavily. "You really need me to?"

"Yes."

"Oh, come on, Tina. Didn't the picture tell you everything you needed to know?"

"Not in the least bit."

Santana holds back a mischievous grin.

"Your smile's telling me a lot more than the picture does, though."

Santana raises her eyebrows. "Really?"

"Really. You look happy."

"When did you ever get the impression I wasn't?"

"With Sam? All the time."

Santana mumbles something.

"Huh?"

"Not his fault. At least not completely."

"I just can't believe it."

"What? That I'm..." the word gets caught in her throat a little, even when she thought it wouldn't."Cheating on him?"

"No, not that."

Santana snorts. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"I just... Quinn Hudson? Of all people?"

"What about her?"

"She was... I always thought if someone's marriage was bound to last, it was hers."

"So did I."

"I mean, who would cheat on Finn?"

Santana shrugs. "Who, indeed."

Tina gives her the side eye. "Are you gay now?"

Santana shrugs again. "I don't know. I think so." She pauses. "Maybe I always was."

Tina nods. "Well, tell me, then."

"Tell you what? How we met? You know how we met."

"No. I want to know what it feels like."

Santana feels like she could answer any and every question about Quinn, about herself, about their relationship. Every question except for this one. The very nature of what she feels for Quinn, when she's with her, or around her, is something she can't grasp, much less put into words.

Like all the stars in the sky are bursting behind your eyes, she thinks, but doesn't say it. Instead she grabs Tina's hand and drags her to Jaeger's room.

Tina looks around in awe. "This is insane."

But Santana isn't even listening to her. Instead, she heads over to Jaeger's microscope and grabs some sand from inside a nearby jar. She places it on a slide and adjust the microscope.

"Look."

Tina looks into the microscope and pulls away almost immediately, eyes boring into Santana's. "Wow."

"That's what it feels like."

..............................

It isn't exactly that Santana can't sleep. It's more the fact that she can't stop thinking about Tina knowing, and the ramifications and consequences that this might entail. She doesn't believe Tina will tell; she promised she wouldn't. Even if she hadn't, Santana still wouldn't believe her capable of spilling her only friend's secret, at least not on purpose. What worries her is that it might slip out of her accidentally, the way so many things happen to the well-meaning Tina. More than that, she doesn't know that Tina has ever kept any secrets from her husband, she's almost certain she hasn't, and she fears that at one point, guilt might make her talk.

It's not that she's truly worried about Sam finding out. Jaeger worries her more, but even then, she can't picture her son reacting too badly; he's never been one for drama. What truly worries her is Quinn, the rumor getting back to her family or even to her, because Santana knows she'd never be able to forgive her.

It is then that she realizes that if any of this is ever going to come out, it will have to be Quinn's doing, because she's the one that's got the most to lose. A loving husband, a seemingly functional family, a whole existence in the place where she was born and brought up. Santana only has Jaeger, and a brother far away who loves her unconditionally, the same way she hopes her son does. Anything else she won't mind losing, wouldn't mind if the world came crumbling down at her feet. She'd actually be rather glad for it, for these circumstances helping her dismantle the life she's led up until then, a life that she isn't sure anymore is worth holding on to, even if Quinn wasn't in the picture.

Quinn isn't in the picture, she tells herself. Whatever this is, it's only momentary, and she can't believe she's thinking of disrrupting her son's life over some fling. Thank god Quinn never would, thank god these things will never come to pass. Thank god Sam sleeps so soundly he can't hear her texting, reaching out to the only person she has cared to talk to during these past months, with the exception of her brother and son.

U awake?

Of course, comes the immediate reply.

Of course?

I'm always awake, you know I am.

Even this late?

Yeah. Can't believe you are, though.

Yeah, me either.

Everything OK?

Yes. Sleep is overrated anyway.

You don't like to sleep?

Not really. I feel like it's a waste of my time, like it's boring or something. Like I could be doing so many more things.

Boring? Haha. Well, maybe, but you can't expect everything you do to be interesting.

I only ever do things because they're interesting, Quinn.

............................................

I want you.

I know. Me too.

Come over.

I can't. You know that.

It's late. They wouldn't even notice.

We're not gonna fuck while your husband is home.

He's not my husband.

Boyfriend. Whatever.

You know what I'd do to you if you were here?

Santana.

What?

Stop.

Well, that's unusual.

What?

You asking me to stop. It's usually the opposite.

In her room, under the sheets, Quinn blushes. She knows, doesn't need the reminder that she tends embarrass herself rather often, asking Santana not to stop.

You still there?

Yeah.

Did I embarrass you?

No.

Liar.

Shut up.

Nothing wrong with admitting it, you know.

What?

You're the best sex I've ever had, too.

Most of the time it feels so good Quinn feels like crying, and she remembers her first time, the only time she ever cried with Finn, because she was so embarrassed and in so much pain. But this is different, she wants to cry because she feels like she's being filled with new blood, because if she doesn't cry she'll scream, or laugh, and laughing is the last thing she wants to do because this isn't funny, this is serious, she's cheating on her husband, she's lying to her children, but sometimes in the middle of the night she wakes up laughing, and it wakes up Finn and the whole house, and he laughs too, like he gets the joke, but he doesn't really get it, he doesn't get it at all. She's letting this thing take over like a fucking poison, like a fucking dark cloud, but somewhere in a corner, her heart is laughing, happy, rejoicing, light.

.....................................................

It's been a while since they've all gathered together, something Quinn was thankful for. She has been put in the awkward position of having to share a room with her husband, Sam and Santana only once, and it messed her up so bad she wishes for it to never happen again, but she knows she's only kidding herself. It's inevitable, as inevitable as this thing between her and Santana has always been, she realizes now. It's only a matter of time, and she knows the holidays will be that time. As a matter of fact, she knows when and how it will happen before it happens, and has resigned herself to it.

Finn arrives with a cup of coffee in hand, which he brings to bed. His wife has been in a better mood for a couple of weeks now, no longer the living dead who never woke up before 1; she's been waking up when it's actually morning, and seems glad to do so.

"So, we're meeting up for Secret Santa today."

Quinn takes a sip of her coffee. "What time?"

"Around five. We're having coffee at the Evans'."

"We are?"

"Yeah."

"I take it this wasn't Santana's idea?"

"No. Sam invited us. Why?"

"She hates having people over."

"Does she, now?"

"Yup."

"Well, Sam loves having people around."

"I know."

"And he wanted us to take a look at their house; none of us has seen it."

"I have."

"I know. I guess Santana didn't mind having you over."

Quinn looks away at that, but if Finn notices, he doesn't say anything. "Is it nice?"

"What?"

"Their house, Quinn."

"Oh. Yeah. It's nice."

Finn is looking at her like he expects her to elaborate, so she says the first thing that comes to mind.

"Jaeger's room is crazy."

"Crazy? How?"

"It's like, twice the size of ours, and has every toy ever known to mankind. I haven't been to his bathroom, but I wouldn't be surprised if he had his own jacuzzi."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm just surprised you haven't asked me remodel the children's bedrooms yet," he says with a sly grin.

Quinn punches him in the arm playfully. "Seriously, Finn?"

"What? It's no secret you always want what other people have."

Not this time, Quinn thinks. For the first time in her life, she wants exactly what she has. Or does she? Maybe at the end of the day, things are the same as always, and Sam has what Quinn wants. But she knows that whatever it is he has with Santana, it's nothing like what they have together. It couldn't be. And yet, she feels the need for reassurance. She texts Santana.

So, party at your house, huh?

Don't even remind me.

Are you busy getting ready?

No.

Quinn remembers then, that Santana's house is usually spotless, almost like no one even lives there. Maybe no one does.

Are you worried?

About what?

Seeing me.

Quinn sighs before texting back.

A little.

Finn is looking at her quizzically, and Quinn puts away her phone, looking up at her husband brightly. He smiles back.

"So, no replica of Jaeger's bedroom?"

She shakes her head. "I don't think so."

"How come?"

"We have three children."

"And enough money."

"You know, you say I'm the competitive one, but you seem to be doing a pretty good job of it yourself, and you haven't even seen Jaeger's room yet."

Finn laughs good-naturedly. "Well, if my own wife's telling me his room's better than our childrens'-"

"I never said that."

"But it's what you think, don't even try to deny it."

"I'm not."

"You see? Besides, I don't see what's wrong with wanting my wife and kids to have better things than everybody else."

"That's what I always say."

"Well, you've convinced me."

"Yeah. Just remember this later."

"OK. So, we're doing it?"

"Doing what?"

"The remodel."

"What? No. No way. I thought you were kidding."

"When have you ever turned down a chance to remodel?"

Quinn shrugs. "It'd be pointless. We can't compete with that."

"We can give it our best shot."

But Quinn shakes her head. "It isn't like that, Finn."

"What isn't?"

"I don't know. They didn't build that room to compete with somebody else, you know? They genuinely did it for their kid. Their relationship with him is... different. From what we have with our kids."

.........................................................

They're all sitting around the table pulling papers, but Quinn feels like she can't focus. In fact, when she unfolds her own, she has no clue who this person named Bree is, until she looks around and spots her. The fact that Quinn remembers Santana eating her out on this very table is not helping either, and she can tell, by the look she's shooting her way, that Santana is thinking about the same thing.

Truth is, she isn't really. Santana is wondering how, from out of twenty papers, she had the cursed luck to pull out the one with Quinn's name on it.

..............................................................

She knows Quinn likes jewelry. Well, she doesn't really, but all chicks like jewelry. Hold something shiny in front of their fucking eyes and... well, it's like holding a stag beetle by the leg and dangling it in front of Santana. She couldn't give less of a fuck about jewels; she has plenty, inherited from her mother, and would have pawned them if some sort of sense of misguided guilt hadn't stopped her.

She spends all day shopping, but her mind keeps coming back to that one thing in her drawer, the one that she knows is the right one, there, beating like a heart. And yet, she doesn't have the courage to pull it out, to even look at it. She hasn't looked at it in so long, shit is cursed anyway. If she gave it to Quinn, it would mean everything, and Santana isn't ready for everything. She has been trying to convince herself, for some time now, that Quinn isn't everything.

So she buys a necklace, glittering silver, inside a redwood box. They said no more than fifty dollars, but this one costs her a small fortune, and makes her break a rule that until then, she had held on to, steadfastly. She told herself she wouldn't touch that money, never depend on it. And now, here she is, breaking her own rules, and for what? She doesn't know, she isn't sure. For what?

.................................................

When it's her turn, Santana gets up wordlessly and presents Quinn with the wooden box. They have been avoiding each other all evening, or, rather, Quinn has been avoiding her all evening, and Santana doesn't miss the panic in her eyes when she sees her heading toward her.

Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you, she wants to say. I wouldn't hurt you, even if it meant taking this secret to the grave.

She's aware of Tina watching her, though, and immediately shakes those thoughts from her head. Instead, she holds out her hands and waits for Quinn to take her unwrapped present, which she does, looking like she's almost dreading it.

Finn calls her out on it, laughing."It's not gonna bite you, hon."

Quinn forces out a smile. "I know it's not, silly. I'm just surprised, that's all."

Santana looks at her, straightforward. Quinn hates it, that she can make her feel like combusting just by looking into her eyes, but once she does, she's haunted, can't look away.

"What, you're surprised that out of all these people, I pulled your name?"

Quinn nods, not trusting her voice, and Santana doesn't take her eyes off her.

"I willed it to happen, you know." And as she says it, there is no doubt in her mind it's true.

Quinn shivers a little as their fingers brush against each other. She doesn't want to open the box, but she knows she has no choice. Everyone is watching.

So she opens it and gasps a little, her eyes shining at the silver. Santana grins at the expression on her face.

"You like it?"

Quinn nods fervently, and Santana laughs low. "I knew you would, you spoiled brat."

"I am not a spoiled brat."

"I will never, in all my life, understand women's obsession with jewels."

"There's no way that was fifty dollars," someone in the crowd grumbles.

Santana ignores it. All of sudden, breaking her own rules seems worth it, all worth it, just to see Quinn's smile.


	42. Chapter 42

Later, during coffee, when no one is too close by, Santana has a seat next to Quinn. She tenses, visibly, immediately, and Santana lays a hand on her thigh to steady her, but it ends up having exactly the opposite effect. Quinn jerks away and looks like she's about get up, but Santana's calm voice stops her.

"Quinn."

"Yeah?"

"It's cool. Don't make a scene."

"I'm not making a scene," Quinn hisses. "You're the one that came and sat-"

"Yes, I sat next to you. We're supposed to be friends, remember?"

Quinn turns to look at her, grimly. "Supposed to be?"

Santana shrugs. "Are we, still? Do you want us to be?"

Quinn shrugs.

"Were we, ever?"

Quinn shakes her head. "I don't think so."

"If you want me to move, I will."

Quinn bites her lip, but remains silent.

"You're embarrassed to be seen with me."

She doesn't even bother to deny it. "Of course I'm embarrassed. I'm... I'm cheating on my husband with you, how am I not supposed to be-"

"Yeah, but nobody here knows that. What I meant was, you're embarrassed to be my friend."

"No, I'm not," Quinn says automatically, and insincerely.

"Yes, you are."

"Well, do you see how Kitty's looking at us?"

Santana glances across the room. It's hard to miss Kitty's penetrating gaze.

"She's looking at us like she's jealous, not like she's judging you."

"Jealous? Of what?"

"Because you're friends with me, now."

"That's stupid. Why would she be jealous of something like that?"

Santana rolls her eyes. "Because that's what people do, Quinn. I get jealous, too."

"Of Kitty?"

"You know perfectly well of whom."

Quinn wants to tell her that she has no reason to be, ever, but she knows it's not completely true. Instead, she glances around the room.

"Tina's looking at us, too."

Santana catches her eye and smiles. Tina waves back. The look on her face is nothing like the one on Kitty's, but Quinn doesn't like it, nevertheless.

"You should go," she tells Santana abruptly.

"Why?"

"Kitty has other friends, but Tina doesn't have anybody."

Santana raises her eyebrows. "Are you actually showing concern for another human being besides yourself?"

Quinn shrugs, and Santana holds back a smile. "OK. I'll go."

But she stays put, staring at Quinn, who tries to ignore it until she can't anymore.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I have to look somewhere."

"Well, please stop. Someone is going to notice. Besides, there are other people here you can stare at."

"I know. But I like looking at you."

Curiosity gets the better of Quinn. "Why?"

"Your face is interesting."

"More so than all the other faces here?" she asks, doubtfully.

"More so than all the other faces in the world."

........................................

Quinn, along with everyone else, has to pretend to look around the Evans' house like she doesn't know it, like she hasn't spend countless hours here, memorizing everything, particularly the ceilings. The thought makes her flush, and she splits from the rest of the crowd.

She makes her way to the empty kitchen instead, notices a picture on the side of the fridge she's never seen before. It looks like a computer printout, worn and faded, held up by a simple magnet. It's the only picture in the house that's not framed; almost as if whoever put it up was hoping people would overlook it. In it, Santana is posing with her arms around a man who looks to be about her age. She is probably not much younger than she is now, but she's still barely recognizable. Her face and features are round and soft, none of the hard, jagged lines Quinn has memorized so well and that she would have thought made Santana up as a whole, nonexistent without them.

She doesn't know how long she stares at it, trying to figure out if it really is Santana, trying to figure out what happened in between then and now to make her so different, wondering what she was like, then. She hears the sound of a man clearing his throat behind her, and spins around. Sam. God knows how long he's been there, how long he's been watching her. She can feel her face heating, but Sam pays no attention. He's looking at the picture attentively, too.

"Do you know who it is?"

Quinn shakes her head. He nods, as if it was what he had expected. Quinn wonders if she should ask, but he cuts her off before she can.

"She'll tell you. When she feels you close enough."

............................................

On Christmas day, Santana gets a call from Quinn. She does a double-take when she sees the name lighting up on her phone, even hesitates to answer, afraid it's nothing but a wrong number. She picks up eventually, however, not wanting to bring attention to the call by leaving it unanswered, and she leaves the living room, where she was watching football with Sam and Jaeger, to take the call in the kitchen.

"Yeah?"

"Santana?"

"Uh-huh."

"It's Quinn."

"I know."

"Oh."

There is a pause, and Santana sighs. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. I mean, you're calling me."

"So?"

"So you never call when Finn's home."

"Well, he isn't. That's why I'm calling. He took the children to visit his parents. They live about three hours away."

"How come you didn't go with them?" Santana asks, knowing the answer full well.

"I told Finn I was feeling sick."

"Are you?"

"What?"

"Feeling sick?"

"No, of course not."

"Then?"

"Oh, Santana. Come on. You're gonna make me spell it out?"

"Yup. I'm not going where I'm not wanted."

"You know you are. Wanted."

"Say it, then."

"Come over? Please? Can you?"

Santana peeks into the living room. As expected, both Sam and Jaeger have fallen asleep, her son's blond head resting against his father's shoulder.

"I might be able to get away for a little while."

If they wake up, she'll just tell them she went for a run.

.................................................

"Why are you wearing jogging clothes?"

Santana shrugs as she steps inside. This is a first, Quinn inviting her to her house, particularly to do what Santana knows they're about to do. The inevitable, as always, with them.

Their Christmas decorations are exquisite; they put everything Santana has ever seen, even at a store, to shame. She's so busy looking around that she forgets to even look at Quinn, who is standing a few feet in front of her, wearing Christmas themed pajamas, arms crossed against her chest.

Santana's eyes finally land on her, and she grins. Quinn frowns. "About time you paid attention."

Santana laughs as she moves toward her. She cups her hand around her face, tilts her chin up to kiss her. "Sorry. I was just taking everything in. I mean, it's not every day I'm invited into the Hudson residence. It looks magnificent."

Quinn looks around too, shrugs. "Yeah. We try."

"But now, let me look at you." Santana takes a step back and admires Quinn. There aren't very many occasions when she gets to see her like this, hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, no makeup, and no stylish clothes. She thought it was the other Quinn she was attracted to, the one who was all fuss and feathers, but this woman in front of her isn't making her heart race any less.

Quinn spins around. "You like?"

Santana nods. "Uh-huh. But I'd like you better without any clothes on."

Quinn laughs and begins taking off her top, but it gets caught on an earring Santana hadn't noticed she was wearing. She steps closer, to help her unhook it, and gets a look at the bright things shining from her earlobes. Heart-shaped diamonds, must have cost a fortune.

"Nice."

Quinn looks away. "I... meant to take them off. I forgot."

"Christmas present?"

"Yeah."

"So, I was right. You do like jewelry."

"He... he got them to match your necklace, actually."

Santana nods, and wonders if there will ever be a time when Finn won't overshadow her. She sighs and sits down on the couch as a topless Quinn sits next to her and discreetly tries to take off the earrings. Santana watches her, a bittersweet expression on her face.

"He really loves you, doesn't he?"

"Yeah." Of that, she has no doubt.

"So what are we doing?"

Quinn shrugs, crawling on top of Santana. Santana grazes her nose with hers. "But you need to love too, huh?"

Quinn doesn't say anything.

"And you love me, don't you?"

Quinn closes her eyes and sighs. "No."

Santana smiles. "Good. Cause I don't love you either."

She begins making her way down Quinn's body. She has these thin, purple, spidery veins she's always hated, but Santana bites at them so hungrily she's making her love them, little inch by little inch, and, for the first time in her life, Quinn thinks that love might not matter, that pleasure might eclipse everything, even love. Pleasure so intense she feels like it's driving her crazy or making her sick, and now she understands, why her mother warned her against it for so long, why church said it was such a sin. Because it's dangerous. It's so easy to give into this and lose sight of everything else, because for two seconds it becomes everything, and when it snaps, you're still chasing it, trying to get it back, trying to make it feel better, willing it to stay, and you know that every day after, for the rest of your life, you will be trying to have it, again and again, and now it's easy to understand why so many people never give in to it, and she wishes someone would have warned her, but they did, they did, and it didn't matter, because once Santana was on her, she got tired of listening.

Santana can sense Quinn beginning to fall asleep already. She knows she will have to wake her up later.

No. let's not fall in love, she thinks as she watches her. Things whispered to the night like no one can hear them, hoping no one can. Things like a breath on your shoulder, behind your ear, swishing wind and words you can't make out, no matter how hard you try. What you want them to say, what you don't want them to say, who knows which is more important, maybe they're both the same.

................................................

"Quinn. Quinn, wake up. I gotta go."

But Quinn's not budging, and Santana thinks she should maybe just go and let her sleep, but there is something in her that can't bear the thought of Quinn waking up and finding herself alone, that Santana left her there like she didn't care, like she wasn't coming back.

She doesn't see what other choice she has, though, and she begins getting up, only to feel a hand winding around her own, pulling her back to bed.

"I thought you were still asleep."

"I was. I woke up when you moved."

"Sorry."

"So, were you just planning to walk out of here like-"

Santana flinches. "I was afraid you'd think that."

Quinn grins. "I'm kidding."

"Oh."

"Kiss me, will you?"

Santana obliges, and it isn't long before she can feel Quinn spreading her legs underneath her, hooking her ankles on to the back of Santana's legs.

"Quinn."

"Yeah?"

"I gotta go."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"One more time?"

Santana laughs in spite of herself. "It's always one more time with you."

And Quinn, who before Santana had always thought sex was overrated, knows it's true. Once she'd had Santana, it was like something had burst, like it was crawling in her blood, and she couldn't stop herself from wanting it, again and again. On her mind, a craving while she was doing dishes, while she was at the salon, her legs squirming and twisting against one another, trying to find relief for this new want that was alive inside her, constant within, that she couldn't seem to do away with, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. It was exhausting, living on edge like this, but new and exciting and happy, heart heavy but light at the same time, she loved feeling sore and loved all these new bruises that had Finn wondering if she had leukemia, and she would have wanted hickeys too, if she could have had them, if she had known what they were.

"Santana, don't stop," she pleads as Santana pulls her lips away from Quinn's neck.

"I have to, Quinn."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to give you a hickey if I don't."

"What's a hickey?"

Santana pulls away and looks at Quinn, dumbfounded. "Seriously?"

But Quinn just looks at her blankly. Santana sighs. "God. A hickey is like... like a mark someone leaves on your skin when they suck on it."

"Like a bite?"

"Sort of, but more... noticeable."

"I don't think I've ever had one before."

"Finn doesn't... ?"

"No."

"He doesn't suck on your neck? Like, ever?"

"No. You said it was noticeable, right?"

"But... he's your husband. It wouldn't matter if he gave you a hickey."

"It'd be embarrassing, people would notice-"

"You can put make up over it."

"Really? Then can you give me one?"

Santana laughs. "No, Quinn. Finn would notice, when you're-"

"When we're what? Oh."

"It's OK, Quinn. You don't have to feel bad. He's your husband, I'm the one you should feel bad about doing it with."

And she does, later, when she's at home, holding Finn's hand in bed, and it's so hot she can't sleep. The heat wraps around darkness, whispering secrets she can't hear, but she knows one of them is her own. She can feel the sweat on her neck and back, soaking the sheets and collecting behind her knees. But it might just be the guilt, roasting her.

....................................................

"Finn?"

"Yeah?"

"When's your next game?"

He looks at her oddly. "You really wanna know?"

"Yes."

"I thought you preferred not knowing."

"Usually, but... I... Can you tell me?"

"Are you sure that's-"

"I won't freak out, I promise."

"Well, actually, I wasn't going to tell you until Coach confirmed it, but I asked for the next game off."

"What? Why?"

"Because I know how hard for it is for you to be alone during the holidays, and..."

And you've been acting strange, is what he doesn't say. Although strange, in this case, is happy, happier than he's known his wife to be in years. But knowing her as he does, even her happiness scares him. He's not sure, but he notices a nervous edge to it, an anxiety, and he's afraid that something could go wrong at any minute, and it could turn manic.

"Oh, but, Finn, that wasn't necessary-"

"Yes, it was, Quinn. I don't want you spending New Year's alone."

"But you..."

"I what?"

"Nothing."

"No, Quinn. Tell me."

"You... you never seemed to mind before," she whispers, almost afraid to say it, afraid it will sound like a complaint when, if there is someone she's got nothing to complain about, it's Finn.

"You think I liked leaving you alone? Not spending New Year's with you and the kids?"

"No, I just... that's not what I'm saying-"

"Then what are you saying?"

Quinn sighs. "I don't know."

"Do you not want me to be here, or something?"

Quinn immediately puts her arms around her husband, buries her face in his chest. "No, Finn. How can you think that?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. You've just been acting... strange, lately."

"I'm sorry, Finn. I... I don't know if I really am acting strange, but if I am, it's got nothing to do with you."

Finn gives her a small smile. He never can stay upset at his wife for too long.

"Well, you might not be thrilled I'm staying, but I know someone who will."

Quinn frowns a little. "Who? The kids?"

Finn laughs. "Well, them too. Especially Willow, huh? But no. I meant your mother."

Quinn brings a hand to her mouth. "That's right. The New Year's Eve party."

"It'll be my first time attending."

"Oh, you're right. She'll be thrilled."

......................................

The Fabray's New Years Eve party is famous in town. They live in the outskirts; their plantation-like home almost two hours away, but people never fail to show up. Quinn dreads it every year, because it's the one party where she's always alone. She sort of resents Finn for not being there; what's the point of having a husband if one doesn't get to show him off on occasions like these?

This year, though, she resents him for being here. It's not that she minds that he will be at the party, it's more the fact that she was looking forward to having time to spend with Santana, and, if that meant Finn missing the party one more year, well, who cared?

"Quinn, hon?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you help me with my tie?"

"Yeah, hold on," she says as she finishes adjusting the strap on one of her heels.

At that moment, her children come barging in the room, all three of them looking like they've stepped out of the pages of a catalog. Millie is trailing behind them, looking apologetic.

"I'm sorry, Miss Quinn, I tried to-"

"It's fine, Millie," Quinn says with a sigh. She supposes she should be grateful Millie got them looking like this, even if she couldn't handle whatever the issue at hand was. Of course there was an issue, when you had three children, there always was. She turns to her kids, weary.

"What is it, guys?"

Daisy stomps her tiny foot on the ground. "My dress is itchy," she whines, tugging at the fabric behind her neck.

Willow is making a face, too. "I want to spend New Year's with Axel."

And Elliott isn't being any more complacent. "I don't wanna go to grandma's. It's boring."

Quinn would have felt overwhelmed by much less, so she does what she usually does when she feels like this; she turns to look at her husband. Finn, accustomed to being the problem solver, just grins and pulls out a Swiss Army knife from his pocket, which he uses to remove the clothing label from the back of Daisy's dress as he addresses Willow.

"Invite him over to your grandma's, then."

Willow shrugs, seeming pleased with the answer, and flees the room to call him before Quinn can raise any objections. Finn turns to Elliott next.

"What if I told you you can bring a friend?"

Elliott frowns at his dad. "I don't have any friends."

"Oh, yes, you do. And he's gonna be there tonight, as a matter of fact."

Elliott's face lights up. "Jaeger?"

Finn nods, smiling wide. Quinn immediately spins on her heel and turns to look at her husband.

"You invited them?"

"Yeah," he says nonchalantly as Elliott and Daisy exit the room.

"Why?"

Finn shrugs. "Because Sam is gone and I didn't want them to have to spend New Years alone."

"She doesn't even like Sam, Finn. I'm sure she doesn't mind spending New Years alone with her son, I'm sure it's not the first New Years they've ever-"

"Hey, Quinn. Hey. Whoa," he says, motioning a time-out with his hands.

"What?"she snaps, irritated.

"Why are you acting like this? I was just trying to be nice."

"You could have asked me before inviting someone over to my mother's party."

Finn raises his eyebrows at the petulant tone of Quinn's voice. "I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd mind, I thought you guys were friends-"

At that moment, they catch Willow, standing at the threshold of their bedroom, coolly analyzing the situation.

"Willow, get out."

"Why, so you can keep yelling at Daddy?"

"What your father and I are talking about is none of your business-"

Willow steps forward, to help her dad knot his tie. "Are you really that fucking blind? He's doing it to make you happy, and you-"

Finn frowns. "Willow, language."

But Willow shakes her head as she makes her way out of the room again. "You have no idea how many women wish they were as lucky as you."


	43. Chapter 43

 

Quinn plops down on the couch next to Santana, a glass of wine on her hand and a resigned look on her face. Santana turns to look at her, cautious.

"You gonna get mad at me this time around, too?"

Quinn shakes her head. "No. But you seriously couldn't have said no?"

"I thought we discussed this before. Your husband is pretty insistent."

Quinn sighs. "You know, soon enough, you're going to have to stop using that as an excuse."

She frowns as she sees Willow making her way around Judy's living room, handing out champagne glasses from a tray. That's usually her job, but she's in no mood to dispute the honor, and instead gets up and grabs two, careful to not make eye contact with her daughter. It still doesn't stop Willow from giving her the once-over, and Quinn hands one of the champagne flutes to Santana, hoping Willow won't think she was planning to down them both.

Santana grins a little as she sips on her champagne. "You know I don't drink, right?"

Quinn shrugs, and Santana goes on. "Though something tells me you didn't exactly get this for me."

Quinn curses under her breath, and means it. "Damn you."

"What?"

"Why do you always have to act like you know everything?"

Santana raises her eyebrows. "So, I'm wrong?"

"No."

"Maybe what bothers you, then, is that I do know everything. Or that I always figure it out. At least when it's about you."

Santana, once again, has hit the nail on the head. She has this irritating quality, of being able to get under Quinn's skin, under her thoughts. It pisses her off, she's never been so defenseless against someone, and yet... maybe it's this vulnerability, this lack of control that's making her feel like she belongs here and not there.

Santana smiles a little, like she knows exactly what she's thinking, and then changes the subject abruptly, to what they were talking about before.

"Would you believe me if I said I actually wanted to come?"

"To my mother's boring party? No. Why would you?"

"I wanted to see you."

Santana's eyes light up when she says it, and Quinn can no longer pretend it's not true. Her face turns red almost immediately, and, in an impulse, she grabs Santana's untouched champagne glass and finishes it with a single drink, hers already long gone.

She feels it go to her head almost immediately, and both of them giggle, and she doesn't know exactly what's happening until she looks to her side and finds her mother inserting herself on the couch between her and Santana. She frowns, but, as usual, Judy's got the first word before Quinn can get any in, only Judy isn't addressing her, but Santana.

"And who are you?"

Quinn rolls her eyes. Maybe if she hadn't had that champagne, she'd be less willing to defend Santana. "She's my friend, mamma."

Judy makes a face. "Obviously, judging by how close to each other you were sitting. Does your friend have a name?"

She looks directly at Santana when she says this, and as they exchange looks, it becomes quite obvious to Santana that this woman knows exactly who she is. Still, she stretches out her hand.

"Santana Lopez."

She can feel Judy giving her the once over, can feel the firm squeeze of her hand, but she doesn't say anything.

"Aren't you going to introduce yourself, mamma?" Quinn asks.

"I'm sure your friend knows who I am. She's at my house, after all."

Santana nods. "I'm sorry. Should I have introduced myself earlier?"

Judy shakes her head. "No. Quinn should have introduced you. After all, she's the one who invited you."

"Actually, mamma, it was Finn who invited her."

Judy raises her eyebrows. "Was he?"

Santana nods again. "Yeah, but I... I should have said something." She waves her hand around the room. "My son's around here, too, somewhere. I'd introduce you, if I knew where he was."

"I'll take a wild guess he's that kid who just upset the dessert table. Long, blond hair? Running around with Elliott?"

Santana grins. "Yup. That's him."

Judy sighs. "Well, I suppose I should be glad Elliott is finally acting like a normal boy his age. What's the kid's name?"

"Jaeger."

"He looks exactly like his father."

"Oh. You know Sam?"

"Your husband? Yes, he's-"

"Not my husband."

Judy waves her hand around dismissively. "Of course he is. I'm sure y'all have been together long enough. Don't try to tell me that's not a marriage."

Santana would, if this was anyone but Quinn's mother, but she is who she is, so Santana keeps her mouth shut. About that, at least.

"I thought you didn't know who I was."

"Excuse me?"

"If you know who Sam is, then you must know who I am."

Judy scoffs. "I know of you. I just didn't know you were friends with my daughter. She usually introduces me to all her friends."

Quinn is beginning to look increasingly irritated. "Maybe the reason I didn't introduce you is that we're more than-"

"So, Mrs. Fabray," Sanatana interrupts, desperately trying to cut Quinn off. "Thank you for coming over to talk. That's nice of you."

"You know, Santana, I didn't really come over here to make small talk."

"Really? Then why did you?"

"Because I wanted to see what it was you were saying to my daughter that had her cheeks turning as red as apples."

Santana is glad, more glad than ever, that she has one of those faces that never gives anything away.

"I'm sorry, I don't quite know what you're-"

"Of course you know what I'm talking about."

Santana doesn't know how aware Quinn is of what's going on. Maybe she doesn't know exactly what her mother's saying, but there is no mistaking her tone of voice.

"Mamma, what the fuck are you doing?"

Judy turns to her daughter sharply. "What did you say?"

"I mean, what is it with the interrogation? What did Santana do to you?"

Judy narrows her eyes at her daughter. "I should be asking you that question. What is your friend doing that she's making you forget your responsibilities and your duties to this-"

"What responsibilities?"

"Quinn," Judy hisses. "Your daughter is passing around the champagne. She's showing the guests in. Last time I checked, that was your job. You are the only daughter of this family-"

"Yeah. Unfortunately."

"I will not have you talking to me-"

Their voices are not rising, both women are too well brought-up for that, and Quinn so used to keeping her cool, her emotions in check, that she's aware it's essential to keep up appearances even when she's had too much to drink. Still, from across the room, Finn notices something is going on, and he makes his way over, ready to break it up.

"What's going on here?" he says, as he arrives with his usual grin. His smile makes even Santana feel relieved. "You having fun, Santana?"

She nods, tensely looking back and forth between mother and daughter.

Quinn looks up at her husband. "Nothing's going on, baby. Mamma's just yelling at me for not fulfilling my duties as the only Fabray daughter-"

She stands up and puts her arms around her husband's neck. Finn sniffs her breath and knows at once what's going on. He laughs lowly.

"Quinn, baby, you're not passing out the champagne, but you're sure drinking it, aren't you?"

Quinn giggles. "I just had a little bit. Is that OK?"

"No, it's not OK," Judy snaps. "You're making a spectacle-"

"No, she isn't, Judy. No one's even noticed yet."

"But they will if she keeps parading around like- god, if I could lock her up, I would. This is unbelievable."

Finn pats his mother-in-law's shoulder. "It's all right, Judy. I'll take care of it."

"No, it's not, Finn. She's behaving like a teenager. Not even Willow is... I don't know how I'm going to survive this night."

"First of all, you need to calm down. You're very upset."

"Of course I'm upset, how am I not supposed to be upset when the night's barely started and she's already-"

Finn interrupts her gently. "Would it help if we sent her away?"

"Sent her away where?"

"Home?"

Judy sighs. "Puck can't take her, he's busy-"

"I can drive her and come back."

"Don't be ridiculous, Finn, that will just make the whole thing even more obvious."

Finn glances at Santana. "I know this is a lot to ask, but... You're the only person here she trusts."

"Why are y'all talking about me like I'm not even here?" Quinn demands.

Finn puts an arm around her. "We know you're here, honey. We're just wondering if you want to go for a ride with Santana?"

Quinn smiles, and even though Santana feels practically crippled with anxiety, she can't help but be endeared by the look on her face and the way she says yes without the slightest bit of hesitation.

Finn looks pretty charmed, too. "Good. Y'all can go then."

Santana looks around the room. "But, what about Jaeger? I don't even know where he is."

"I promise I'll have him back at your house before the new year rings in. I know you won't want to spend it without him."

Santana fixes her eyes on Finn. "You promise?"

Finn looks right back at her. "You don't think you can trust me with your kid?"

There is a pause, and Santana sighs. "I think I could trust you with anything, Finn," she says truthfully. They nod at each other and Santana grabs Quinn's hand.

"Come on, Quinn. Let's go."

She leads her to the front door as Finn and Judy watch them. Judy fumbles with her pearl necklace anxiously. "Shouldn't you walk them to her car?"

Finn shakes his head. "That will just call more attention to the whole thing."

"I can't believe she's doing this to me. To you."

Finn sighs. "Judy, she's been having a rough time lately."

"A rough time? What does that even mean? She's always having a rough time. Life is a rough time for her."

"I know, I know, but... she's been acting weird. Not weird bad, just... weird weird, you know?"

"No, Finn. I don't."

"I'm sure she'll be fine," he says, trying to reassure himself.

"I don't know how you put up with her."

"Yes, you do."

"You love her," Judy says, sounding almost bored.

"Always have, always will."

"She's a lucky girl."

"I wish people would stop saying that. I'm lucky, too, you know. She loves me back."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I am of anything."

* * *

 

Quinn doesn't really know what's going on, and she doesn't care. All she knows is, she's with Santana, she's going home, and she's happy. Santana's hand is warm on her waist. Quinn grazes her fingertips against hers, and wonders how she got so lucky.

They bump into Willow on the way out. She shoots Quinn a dirty look, and mutters under her breath.

"Remember when you said  _I_  was an embarrassment to this family?"

Santana looks straight into Willow's eyes. "Willow, that's enough. Your mother's not feeling well."

Willow raises her eyebrows at her coolly. "Doctor, are you?"

"Excuse me?"

"You gonna make it all better?"

Santana spins around, and, putting her hands on Quinn's shoulders, steers her toward the entrance, without even giving Willow a second glance.

* * *

 

The two hour drive is all it takes for Quinn to sober up. She falls asleep almost the whole way, wakes up when they're a couple of miles from home.

"Santana?"

Santana turns around to look at her. She was so lost in her own thoughts she had almost forgotten Quinn was there.

"Yeah?"

"I don't wanna go home."

"Where do you wanna go, then?"

"Can we go to your house?" she asks in a small voice.

Santana nods. "OK. But I'll have to drive you home before eleven."

"Why?"

"So you can spend New Year's with your family."

"My family hates me."

"Don't be ridiculous. They don't hate you."

"Mamma hates me. Willow hates me."

Santana doesn't bother denying this, but tries to reassure Quinn instead. "They're probably not even going to be there. Someone has to stay at the party."

Quinn's eyes darken. "And of course my daughter would prefer to spend New Years with my mother than with me."

Santana sighs as she parks her truck outside the driveway of her house.

* * *

 

Santana tries putting her hands around Quinn's waist as soon as they're inside the house, but Quinn pushes her off.

"Santana."

"What?"

"I'm not in the mood."

"OK," she replies, not offended in the least. In all the time she's known Quinn, this is the first time she hasn't been in the mood, but it's not surprising, really, considering how the night has gone so far.

Quinn keeps rambling as they both sit on the couch and Santana turns on the TV, not because she really wants to watch it, as a matter of fact, she loathes the thing, but more because she's trying to find something to do, something to distract her from the cold hard truth that when they're not talking or having sex, she really doesn't know what to do with Quinn.

"I mean, how am I supposed to be in the mood, when nobody even likes me-"

"I like you," Santana replies, automatically. Quinn lays her head down on her lap and Santana strokes her head.

"I mean, I know you like me, and I know Finn likes me, and he likes you, he showed that tonight and yet here I am..."

Pretty soon they're wrapped up in each other's arms and Quinn is pressing her lips to Santana's.

"... cheating on him, and I'm in your house when I'm supposed to be in mine," Quinn mutters in between kisses. "And this is probably why I didn't want to go to my house in the first place, because I knew this was..."

Santana is no longer wearing a shirt, and she starts unhooking Quinn's bra. Quinn jumps back, startled.

"No, Santana, we're not doing this right now-"

To her surprise, Santana bursts out laughing.

"What?"

"You're the one that just took my shirt off, Quinn."

"No, I didn't," Quinn says defensively, pushing herself off of Santana's body.

But Santana just keeps on laughing. "Yes, you did."

Quinn squirms and Santana pulls away almost immediately. "I... do you seriously want me to stop?"

"I don't know."

Santana grabs Quinn's hand, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation. "You know if you want me to stop, you just have to say it, right? I'm not going to force you to do something you don't want to do. You know I wouldn't-"

"Yeah, I know," Quinn cuts in. "I know if I told you to get off me, you would."

And yet she's already running her hands down Santana's arms, and Santana knows, unequivocally, that she isn't the only one who wants this.

"But you don't want me to get off you, do you?"

"No. I don't."

Pretty soon, Quinn's writhing and moaning like an animal, like she never dared to with Finn. She would have been embarrassed, but here she doesn't care, because Santana likes it, because Santana's quiet just so she can hear her.

It feels like a delicious secret just between the two of them, that Quinn can do this, that she's capable of being who she was always told she shouldn't be. But she is this person nevertheless, she always was, and she relishes it, unleashing like a revenge against her mother, against her daughter, against herself.

She can feel Santana, hesitant, holding back in spite of the conversation they just had, but Quinn wants everything like she's never wanted it before, and she doesn't even care what words have to fall from her lips so that she can have it.

"Santana, please. Please. Harder. Don't stop."

* * *

 

It isn't until later, when they're dressing and Santana's getting ready to drop her off, that Quinn notices the red scratches running down her arms, down Santana's back.

She stares at them, half- mesmerized, half-terrified, and Santana catches her looking.

"Nice, huh?"

Quinn shakes her head. "How am I supposed to... Santana, what am I going to tell Finn? Why didn't you-"

"Why didn't I what? Stop? Because you were very clearly telling me not to stop."

Quinn runs her fingers down her arms, tracing the lines. "You shouldn't have. I'm a married woman."

"So am I, according to your mother," says Santana, turning off the lights so that Quinn will stop looking at the scratches on both their bodies like they're running blood.

"Yes, but just because your marriage is in shreds-"

"Quinn, you asked me to. Begged me to."

"I did not. I would never... I don't need to beg for... for..."

"For sex? Well, you did."

Quinn starts crying, suddenly. "I'm just a... a whore, aren't I? Who else begs for sex?"

Santana immediately regrets it, and she makes her way over to hold Quinn in her arms. "You're not a whore. People... beg for sex sometimes, when they love each other. Doesn't Finn ever beg you?"

"Yes, but... but you and I aren't in love."

"No. I guess we aren't. But... that doesn't mean. Come on, Quinn. It's not like you paid me. I did it because I wanted to."

For a minute, Quinn looks confused. "Is that how it works?"

"How what works?"

"When you're, like, a hooker. I mean, would I have to pay you?"

Santana laughs. "No! I... I was glad to do it for free. I always am. If anything, I'm the one who should be paying you."

Quinn sighs resignedly. "Do it then."

"What?"

"Pay me. I'm already enough of a whore."

Santana looks at her, no longer certain if she's serious or if this is still a game, then, wordlessly, makes her way to a redwood chest, where she pulls something out of a drawer.

If there was ever a time, this is the time. She knows it now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, knows why she didn't give it to Quinn during Christmas, when she kept thinking about it. She had been saving it for today, almost as if she had known, as if she had been certain, that this day, and this moment, would come.

She hands it to Quinn, who can't really see with the lights off.

"What is it?"

"It's a ring."

Even in the dark, Quinn can tell it isn't just any kind of ring. It's heavy, large, and reflects whatever scarce light it finds in the room.

"Whose is it?"

"No one's, really."

"Santana," Quinn says, warning in her voice.

Santana sighs."It's been in my mother's family for a long time. It was supposed to be for the man of the family to give to his fiancee, but-"

"But there are no men in your family."

"Uh, yeah. So my mother gave it to me. Told me to pass it on to my firstborn, if I had one."

Quinn turns it over in her hands. "I can't see it, but... I'm sure it must be stunning."

Santana nods. "It is."

"I can't take it."

"Why not?"

"Because you have to give it to Jaeger. For when he gets married."

"Jaeger won't carry the family name, so it makes no difference."

"He could."

Santana shakes her head. "Sam refused to let him do it. The Avner name dies with me, so I decide what to do with it."

"Santana, you could sell this..."

"Yeah. Cause I need the money."

"I know you don't, but..."

"Keep it, Quinn. It's yours now. I think it was always yours."

 


	44. Chapter 44

 

 

 

"Oh, shit."

Finn turns to her, a half-amused, half-concerned smile on his face. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing," Quinn says, absent-mindedly. "Why?"

"Did something happen?"

"I... yeah, I hit my toe against the door."

Finn frowns at her. "You don't have to help me, you know."

"Of course I have to help you, don't be silly."

They've both turned the room upside down, trying to find Finn's favorite jersey. It's the first practice of the year and Finn won't go without his lucky uniform. Quinn's only concern, really, is getting him out of the house as soon as possible, which she knows won't happen unless they find that particular piece of clothing.

"Couldn't you wear something else?"

He fixes his eyes on her, stern. "Quinn."

"Just this once?"

"No. We'll find it. It has to be here somewhere."

Quinn sighs but decides it is against her better interests to argue, so she keeps digging in the back of the closet until she spots the tell-tell colors of her husband's uniform. She tugs on it, triumphant.

"Found it!"

Finn takes it from her excitedly, only for his face to fall a couple seconds later.

"This isn't it."

"What?"

"It isn't it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he says, tossing it over his shoulder and beginning the search again.

"Finn, that has to be it."

"It's not."

"But how can you even tell-"

"Because that one is more frayed at the bottom-"

"Can't you just pretend-"

Finn turns to look at her. "Pretend? Are you serious right now?"

Quinn tries hard not to roll her eyes. "No. Of course not."

They continue searching, in a weird, uncomfortable silence that Quinn realizes had never before shown up in her marriage. But she doesn't have the time, or the heart, to think about what it might mean.

"So, what time is practice over?"

He shrugs, but Quinn, who is too busy searching, doesn't see it.

"Finn?"

"Yeah?"

"I asked what time-"

"I know. I heard you. I don't know."

"You don't know? How can you not know, didn't they-"

"No, Quinn, they didn't. But I can stay until midnight, if you want, since you want me gone so badly."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Finn stands up abruptly. "You know what? Screw the jersey. I'm leaving."

"Finn, wait. I didn't... what's wrong?"

"I don't know, Quinn. You tell me."

"What?"

"What has gotten into you?"

"Nothing, I don't... I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're swearing, which you've never done before-"

"I'm sorry, it slipped out-"

"You're acting like you can't wait for me to get out of here-"

Quinn hangs her head, because there's no denying that.

"I mean, I asked for so much time off because I thought it'd make you happy, but-"

"Finn," Quinn says, rather desperately. "It's not that I don't want you here, it's just that... I don't know. Maybe I'm getting more used to being without you? I mean, isn't that what you wanted?"

Finn shakes his head. "You're even starting to sound like her."

Quinn doesn't have to ask who he means. "Finn, I... you wanted us to be friends."

He nods. "You're right. I did. I do. And it is a good thing, that you're starting to miss me less. I'm just being dumb." He kisses the top of her head. "And I like Santana, you know I do. I'm just... I'm gonna go, before I say any more stuff I don't mean, OK?"

Quinn, face full of regret, holds on to his hand as he pulls away. "Finn..."

"It's fine, Quinn. I'm just upset because of the whole jersey thing. Don't listen to me. I'm a jerk. I'm sorry."

* * *

 

"Finn's acting weird."

Santana frowns at her as she sits on their bed. "You think he knows?"

"No. I just think he thinks  _I'm_  acting weird."

"Are you?"

"I... I don't know. I wasn't aware I was doing it. But he says I am."

"Why would you be?"

Quinn gestures around them, at the two of them, sitting on the bed she shares with Finn. "Doe this not seem like enough of a reason to you?"

Santana shrugs. "I thought we agreed this wasn't some sort of life-changing thing we were doing."

"Well, we wouldn't be able to do anything about it even if it was, would we?"

"What do you mean?"

"That it's too late to change it now, even if it is life-changing."

"But it isn't," Santana says cautiously.

"No. It isn't."

And yet here they are, already pouncing on each other, and each wondering, separately and in their own heads, what they would be doing if this wasn't happening, what they would do if it ceased to.

Santana runs her hand lightly down Quinn's hip, playing with the silk of the robe she's wearing, and Quinn so desperately wants to tell her she wants it off, needs it off, but the words get stuck in her throat; that's how little she is used to vocalizing her wants.

Santana seems to know this, almost innately, Quinn thinks, though it might also be the fact that she's squirming so much that tells Santana something is going on; her body's way of saying what words can't, or won't. Santana pulls away slowly, a smile on her lips, and looks into her eyes, her own bright and happy.

"You can tell me, you know?"

"Huh?" Quinn asks, still dizzy from the whole thing.

"You can tell me what you want." She grins wickedly. "It's not like I'm gonna tell anybody."

Quinn flushes red. "I know you're not, it's not that."

"Then what is it? You don't trust me?"

Quinn avoids the question, though she knows this has absolutely nothing to do with trust.

"Santana, it's just... it sounds so weird. I'm not even... I don't even know what I want, half the time."

Santana raises her eyebrows at her. "Really?"

"I mean, I know I want you, and I know I like it when you touch me, but-"

"Well, then say it. Geez, Quinn you usually talk so much, this would have been the last thing I would have expected you to have a problem with-"

"I wanna watch porn."

"What?"

Quinn buries her face in her hands, and Santana laughs. "You're serious? OK."

She grabs her gym bag and pulls out her ipad, begins scrolling through some websites. Quinn frowns.

"Wait. You've done this before?"

Santana looks at her, just as surprised. "You mean you haven't?"

"Of course I haven't, who do you think I am-"

"A bored housewife, those are usually the first to-"

"You would know, wouldn't you?"

They both laugh, and Santana hands Quinn her ipad. "Here. Pick."

She would never admit it, but she's curious, to see what Quinn will choose. Gay or straight, men or women? She wouldn't judge her either way, even though she knows exactly what her own choice would be.

She gets up, grabs her iphone from her bag and connects it to the speakers in Quinn's room, blasting some Pink Floyd.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure the kids can't hear."

"They're playing video games. And Daisy's asleep."

Santana shrugs. "You can never be too careful."

Quinn frowns. "Do we really have to listen to this? Couldn't you pick something a little more mellow?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. One Direction or something?"

"What the fuck is One Direction?"

"It's a band."

Santana scoffs. "Yeah. I bet. That sounds like something Willow probably listens to."

"Actually, no. Willow is very sophisticated in her music taste, much like yourself. Daisy likes them, though."

They laugh and Santana slips back into bed next to Quinn, who turns her attention back to the ipad, fascinated by the whole thing. It is easy to believe that she has never done this, never even come close, before. She sighs deeply and clicks on something, and Santana wants to laugh but doesn't. A threesome. Two women, one man.

They watch about ten minutes of it, before Santana rolls over on the bed on top of Quinn, having already stripped them both of all their clothes.

"Well, you, Miss Quinn, will never cease to surprise me."

Quinn giggles. "Is it really that surprising, though? I mean, what did you expect me to pick?"

Santana shrugs. "Not that. But I like it. It's kinky. Even for you."

"Even for me? What is that supposed to mean?"

They laugh again, and it strikes Quinn, how often she laughs now, during sex. She used to laugh with Finn too, mostly because everything he did seemed to tickle her in some fashion, but with Santana it isn't like that. It's more like this whole thing tickles her inside somewhere, because outside, every touch and move gives her goosebumps, makes her feel like throwing her head back and howling.

Quinn kisses Santana when they're done, then lays her head down on her stomach and interlocks their fingers together. She sighs contentedly. "Let me just tell you one thing."

"OK?"

"I'm not going to leave this life without having had a threesome."

Santana sits up abruptly and throws her head back, laughing so hard her breasts bounce against her ribcage.

"What?"

"You always say the craziest things after sex."

They doze off, eventually, until Quinn is awakened by a particularly loud guitar solo playing on Santana's iphone. She considers turning it off but then decides against it, thinking the lack of sound might startle Santana awake. Instead, she gets up, puts on her robe, ties it loosely around her stomach and looks around the room for something to do. Everything seems out of the question, with Santana here; the only thing she truly wants to do is wake her up.

She settles for the next best thing, spotting Santana's gym bag on the floor and grabbing it so she can look through it. There is nothing too interesting there, and she realizes with disappointment that the contents of her own purse are much more interesting. The only thing she finds is a dark colored lollipop, which she sticks into her mouth without thinking about it too much. The sound of the wrapper, subtle as it was, especially compared to the music blaring within, wakes up Santana. She catches Quinn with her open bag in her lap and, Quinn, caught in the act, turns red, not for the first time that day. She pulls the lollipop out of her mouth, and Santana laughs.

"You look like an apple."

She kisses her, sticky, and licks a spot at the corner of her mouth, tasting sweet toffee.

"Why were you looking through my stuff?"

Quinn shrugs. "I was bored."

"You find anything interesting?"

"Not really. You're pretty boring."

Santana grins. "Nothing but the lollipop, right?"

"Right."

"Jaeger's always hiding his candy in my purse. He knows it's the one place Sam won't look."

They hear a noise, suddenly, like someone is trying to open the door, only it's locked. They turn to each other in a panic and Santana runs into Quinn's closet, where she pulls on the first items of clothing she can find, shorts and a t-shirt, as Quinn cautiously makes her way to the door.

"Who is it?"

They hear Willow's voice, loud and clear. "It's me. Open the door."

Santana has just enough time to kick her clothes under the bed as Willow steps inside, looking around suspiciously.

"What is going on here? I can hear that music all the way to the front door."

She spots Santana, then, and raises her eyebrows. "Nice shirt."

Santana looks down at the t-shirt she's wearing. It's pink and has a huge Minnie Mouse on the front; a souvenir from the last time Barbie's family went to Disneyland.

Willow snorts, her eyes still on Santana. "I take it that's your music?"

She nods, one of those rare occasions when she's unable to come up with words.

"Should have known it was too good to be true."

"What?"

"Mamma actually listening to good music for a change."

Both Quinn and Santana turn to look at each other, not sure they know where this is going, and Santana smiles at her.

"So, what kind of music do you listen to?"

Quinn shrugs uncomfortably as Willow stares at both of them incredulously.

"You mean you guys are friends and you don't even know what kind of music the other listens to?"

Quinn shrugs again. "We don't do a lot of talking," she says, before she can stop herself.

Willow frowns at her. "Well, what do you do, then?"

"We do each others hair," Quinn tries to cover quickly.

"Really?" Willow asks, staring at the messy bun on top of Santana's head.

Santana speaks up. "What she means is that we don't do a lot of talking about that subject in particular."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. Is that a conversation you have with all of your friends?"

"Of course. I love music. And you must too, if you listen to Pink Floyd."

Santana smiles. "I do."

"Well, then how can you have a friend that doesn't like music?"

Santana turns to Quinn. "You don't like music?"

"Of course I do," Quinn says indignantly. "I'm a dancer, how could I not like music?"

Willow rolls her eyes. "She doesn't like real music."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Santana laughs. "She mentioned something about One Direction earlier?"

Willow makes a face. "Yeah, that's exactly what I mean."

Quinn, deflated, just points to her daughter. "Willow's in a band."

Santana's eyes light up. "Are you?"

"Yeah."

"What instrument do you play?"

"Drums."

"Awesome."

"Yeah. My dad used to play the drums when he was young."

Santana and Quinn both go silent at the mention of Finn, until Santana absorbs this and looks at Willow, mildly surprised.

"Really? Finn?"

"Uh-huh."

Sensing this conversation has come to an end, Santana clears her throat. "Well, I should be going."

Quinn and Willow nod, and Santana grabs her bag. She turns to Willow on her way out.

"I'd love to listen to your music sometime. If you'd let me."

She's not sure, but she thinks she sees Willow actually smile a little. "Yeah. Sure."

 

* * *

 

It isn't until she has to look for a place to hide the ring Santana gave her that Quinn realizes that there aren't a lot of private spaces in her house. She shares everything with Finn, has never had a reason to keep anything hidden from him. The truth is, she never missed having privacy because she had no need for it. It wasn't something she had ever had, much less at Judy's house, where the door to her room had no lock and everything was subject to inspection.

She doesn't know why she feels the need to keep the ring hidden, only that having out, or inside her jewelry box, makes her feel too guilty. The first few nights, she keeps it wrapped in a piece of tissue, which she keeps on her bedside table. Then, fearing it might get accidentally thrown away, she moves it, and stuffs it into the pocket of a black leather jacket she hardly ever wears.

She manages to forget about it until one Friday night, when she sees Willow wearing that very jacket on her way out. She can't very well stop her and explain, so she just watches her go, anxiously, and sends a silent prayer to the heavens, hoping her ring will be all right.

The next day, she waits until late at night, when Willow's gone off to another one of her concerts, to sneak into her room and look for the jacket. She finds nothing there and thinks, panicked, that her daughter must have tossed it in with the clothes she wanted washed.

She goes downstairs and digs through the dirty clothes bin frantically, until Finn spots her.

"What are you doing, hon?"

"Nothing," Quinn says brusquely, then softens her tone. "Just looking for this thing I lost."

"What thing?"

"A ring."

"A kind of old-fashioned ring?"

Quinn turns to her husband quickly. "Yes. Have you seen it?"

Finn nods. "Millie found it this morning. She asked me if it was yours."

"What did you tell her?"

"That it wasn't."

"Why would you do that?"

"Quinn, hon, I didn't know. I'd just never seen it before, and, honestly, it didn't look like the kind of thing you'd wear."

"So what did you do with it?"

"I told her she could keep it."

"Who?"

"Millie."

"Are you fucking kidding me, Finn?"

"Jesus, Quinn, calm down. I'm sorry. We'll just tell her it was a mistake, ask her to give it back."

" _You_  are going to ask her to give it back."

"OK, fine. I will."

"You're gonna call her. Right now."

"Quinn, it's twelve o'clock at night."

"Right now, Finn. Before she goes off and sells it or something."

"Why are you making such a big deal about this? I've never even seen you wear it."

"It's not about the ring, Finn," Quinn lies.

"Really? Then what is it about? You wanting to pick a fight with me? Again?"

"Who's trying to pick a fight?"

"You are. Listen to yourself. I don't know what's gotten into you. I know I made a mistake. I already apologized. What more do you want?"

"I want you to call Millie-"

"I'm not going to call her in the middle of the night-"

"Then don't apologize, I don't want your apologies, all I want is my ring-"

"I'll get you another one-"

"I don't want another one, Finn, I want—"

"I thought you didn't care about the ring."

"I don't."

"Then?"

"Then I'm sick of you doing things without asking me."

She's not sure she's ever seen her husband look as shocked as he does now, and it irritates her to no end.

"Quinn-"

"I don't wanna hear it, Finn."

"But I just-"

Quinn grabs her purse and races out the room.

"Where are you going?"

"Leave me alone, OK. And don't you dare come after me."

He doesn't, not because he doesn't want to, but because he's too shocked about what just happened. Later, Quinn wonders if it would have made a difference.

 


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had originally planned to reply to all the comments posted here, because there weren't that many, but somehow I never got around to it. I meant to do it this weekend, but I realized maybe it's too late and there's too many, and it's usually the same four or five people posting them anyway, so I'm not going to. But I just want you guys to know it was a very nice surprise being able to read them all together and I am so grateful that you've taken the time to follow this monster of a story. You are what keeps me writing. So thank you.

She doesn't know if she leaves her cell phone behind unintentionally or if she actually does it on purpose. When she realizes she doesn't have it, and that she has no place to go, she wishes she hadn't, but she is, at the same time, grateful for the lock feature she installed on it not too long ago. She doesn't think Finn would ever go through her phone, not because he'd be incapable of doing such a thing, but because he'd find no reason to; they've never kept any secrets from each other. However, these are different circumstances. This time, he might want to, need to, to try and figure out where she's gone off to.

The most logical of conclusions, Quinn thinks, at least the one that could be gathered from looking through the messages on her cell phone, would be that she's at Santana's. Which is exactly where she intends to go, where her feet and her mind, and maybe her heart take her, almost involuntarily. She thanks god it's too late at night and too dark for any of their neighbors to spot her.

It's not that she particularly wants to go to Santana's. It's more of the fact that she doesn't have anywhere else to go. She can't go to her parents, she can't go to Kitty's, and all of sudden it dawns on her that ever since she was seventeen, Finn has been her place to go. She never thought she's have to go somewhere where he wasn't, or, even worse, have to go somewhere to get away from him.

When she gets to the front of Santana's house, about thirty minutes later, she hesitates between the doorbell and knocking. She doesn't think her knocks will be heard, but she's familiar with, and afraid, of the way the doorbell echoes around the whole house. Then she wonders, if in this house they're anything like Finn, trusting, and tries the door knob. The door opens easily and Quinn smiles for the first time that day, thinking that at least for once, things have gone her way.

She doesn't know what she will do if she runs into Sam. The thought strikes her just as she hears the big clock in the living room chiming, and she walks into the kitchen, where she runs, instead, into Jaeger. He's carrying a large glass that contains what looks like a strawberry milkshake, and some of it spills onto the floor. He doesn't seem particularly surprised to see her, and just grabs a rag and starts wiping the floor with it. However it was that Quinn expected him to react, it certainly wasn't like this. He looks up at her when he's done.

"I guess I'll call my mom for you, yeah?"

Quinn nods, wordlessly, and Jaeger disappears into the dark.

* * *

Santana is in bed reading, and Sam, as usual, is laying by her side, snoring, already fast asleep. It annoys her, the way he goes to sleep so early and still manages to wake up later than anyone else in the household. She's a night owl, she doesn't get it, even though Tina says it's normal, he needs his sleep, needs to rest, he's an athlete. Santana scoffs, ready to mention Finn and his six a.m. running schedule, when it strikes her as a little hypocritical, to be comparing her husband to Finn, whom everyone already sees as perfect, even her. There is only one person who doesn't, to Santana's utmost relief, though she can almost hear her voice in her head.

"You're wrong, Santana. I do think he's perfect."

"Why don't you go and be with him, then?"

"He's perfect, just not for me."

"Then who is he perfect for?"

The Quinn in her mind shrugs. "Anybody else."

Santana wonders if it's all a big lie, if no one is really ever perfect for anybody else. Or maybe the problem is that no one wants perfect, all the time. She certainly doesn't think Quinn is perfect, she'd be a fool to, but... there's something about this thing, this thing she's afraid to call love, that makes her want to be broken so she can be mended, and she knows that right now, if anyone can break her, it's Quinn. This girl, who has her singing _'Tis the season_  when Christmas is already over, who'd have her singing it in the middle of summer, and she remembers those hot, summer nights, those few times she sat up in the dark, thinking  _Love, love, come_ , willing it near, when she was supposed to have everything but felt like she was missing the most basic of it all, until she told herself she wasn't, she had it, she must be mistaken.

It took a while, for her to stop kidding herself. She didn't have Sam's love, he was incapable of loving anyone but Jaeger, and she didn't even want it. But there was no reason for her to be waking up at night, it wasn't like her life was devoid of love. She had Jaeger, she had Jake. She had science. Slipping out of her grasp, but still. What more did she want? What more could she ask for? Most people didn't even experience a fraction of the love she had in their lifetime, and here she was, wanting more, more to the point she couldn't sleep, wanting something whose existence she had been denying, not only to herself but to everybody else, for as long as she could remember. There had never been, in her life, not even once, proof that romantic love was a real, tangible thing, and how could she want something that wasn't? It made no sense, nothing made any sense, until she met Quinn. And now, she thinks, everything makes even less sense than it did then.

"I didn't think it was something that was ever going to happen to me," she tells Tina when they talk. And her friend, instead of telling her what Santana needs to hear, that she's a fool, that she's a selfish bitch, sighs like she's jealous.

"All the more reason for you to be grateful for it, I guess."

* * *

Santana is submerged in her own thoughts, the way she always is, but now more than ever, since her thoughts are deeper, and more troublesome than before, when Jaeger slips into the room without knocking.

"Mom?"

"Yeah?" she says, frowning. It is unlike Jaeger to come in here so late at night, or at all, when both his parents are there. It's almost like he feels he's interrupting something, and Santana sighs, thinking about how her son would feel if he knew he wouldn't be interrupting anything at all.

Jaeger has his own special relationship with each one of them, but separately. They hardly ever hang out the three of them together. Santana thinks that, for all she's tried, she's failed to give Jaeger a true, normal family, the one thing she always craved for herself, the one thing she wanted to make sure she gave her son. And now, she's breaking whatever it is that he does have into a thousand pieces, turning it into something irreparable, something that neither Jaeger nor Sam nor her will ever be able to put back together. If only she didn't have the terrible feeling, if only she didn't know from experience, that Jaeger will have to be the one picking up the pieces, the one who will have to try to figure out what to do with them, and worry about what to construct when you've only been given shards.

She looks at her son, worry etched in her face, and wonders if it isn't beginning already, now.

To his credit, he keeps his voice low. "Elliott's mom's outside. I think she wants to see you."

Santana's first thought is that Jaeger must be mistaken, that maybe he's seen a ghost. She stops herself in time, just before she says it, before those ridiculous words leave her mouth. She doesn't even believe in ghosts. Jaeger, a firm believer himself, like his father, knows this; they've had many arguments about it in the past. And there is no way, that a ghost in the form of Quinn Hudson would have appeared in front of Jaeger, she thinks. After all, Santana is the one who's haunted.

She puts her hand on Jaeger's shoulder and gets up from bed, leading him outside. She shuts the door tightly behind them, but still whispers.

"Did she say what she wanted?" she asks, trying to sound normal, nonchalant, like Quinn visits them every day or something.

"No. I was just in the kitchen, making a milkshake, and then she was there."

"Like a ghost," Santana says with a smile.

Jaeger doesn't smile back. "Not really. She's not scary."

"You don't think so?"

"No. Actually, she's the one who looks pretty scared."

Santana's eyes widen in alarm, and she hopes her son doesn't notice, but the kid is so much like her, he doesn't miss a beat.

"Don't worry, mom. She seems fine. Just... tired. And dirty."

"OK, Jaeger. Thank you for coming to get me."

"Can I go to bed now?"

Santana smiles, gesturing to the milkshake in his hand. "You wanna drink that first?"

He glances at it, almost like he'd forgotten he was holding it. "I don't think I'm thirsty anymore. You want it?"

She's about to say no, but Jaeger cuts in. "You can give it to Quinn, if you want."

She hasn't the heart to say no, so she doesn't, and instead grabs it with a smile she hopes her son can't tell isn't all sincere. She pats his blonde head. "Sleep tight, baby."

Jaeger nods, and, once again, disappears down the hall without a word.

* * *

It seems like Santana takes forever to come, so long, in fact, that Quinn is beginning to wonder if she did the right thing, if she should leave.

She hears footsteps, then, and they are unmistakably hers. Quinn knows her just by the shuffling of her feet, the sound she has been unconsciously training her ears to distinguish for months now, the one that causes her stomach to dip, her heart to slow.

She's wearing a University of Chicago t-shirt and sweats. Her hair is tied back, messy and there are dark circles under her eyes. Santana looks tired, and nothing like Quinn has ever seen her. She's perfectly aware Santana doesn't look like a model now. She's also aware it doesn't matter one bit.

Santana sets Jaeger's pink milkshake down on the kitchen counter when she comes in. That's all it takes, for Quinn to throw herself into her arms. She had been picturing this, when she was walking to Santana's, or, more like running away from Finn's, and she thought that when she did it, she'd be sobbing, but the truth is, she doesn't feel like crying.

She pulls Santana to her, presses her lips against hers and starts reaching under her shirt in a hurry. Santana steps back.

"Quinn. Wait. What the fuck?"

But Quinn just keeps going. "I want you. I fucking want you so bad."

Quinn seems weak, small, but Santana wonders at the power this woman has, to pull her out of herself and into anything.

"Quinn... I... Sam..."

"Where is he?"

"Asleep."

Quinn traces the shell of Santana's ear with her tongue. "You got a guest room, right?"

"Yeah, but I.. Jaeger..."

"Shouldn't he be in bed by now?"

"He... he is. He said he was going to."

"Good."

Quinn sits on the counter, wraps her legs around Santana. "Don't tell me you don't want to," she whispers in her ear, and Santana can't say anything. She picks her up and carries her into the guest room.

* * *

She sets Quinn on the bed and locks the door behind them, and her head feels cooler already.

"What's wrong with you?" she asks, as she lays down on the bed next to Quinn.

"Nothing. I just wanted to see you," Quinn says, already crawling on top of her.

"No, Quinn. Wait. If something's wrong... you know you can tell me, right?"

"But nothing's wrong, why are you-"

"It's the middle of the fucking night, you just walked into my house, I don't even know how you got here... of course something is fucking wrong."

Quinn rolls over on her back, stares at the ceiling. Santana lays a hand on her stomach.

"You can talk to me. About whatever you want."

"No, I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't talk to you. I'm not here to talk to you."

"Then why are you here?"

It's on the tip of Quinn's tongue,  _Because I don't have anywhere else to go_ , but she doesn't say it. "I thought that was obvious."

"What, that you're here to fuck? That the only reason you even come to my house is that you're sexually frustrated?"

Quinn sits up. "How dare you? Finn-"

"Obviously doesn't give you what you want, otherwise you wouldn't be here."

She knows it's true, that Finn never made her hungry for this like she is now, but it's not like it's his fault, it's not like he didn't try.

"Stop acting like you're so fucking irresistible. I could leave here any minute I wanted."

"Do it, then."

But Quinn can't, and she just bursts out crying. Santana tries to go to her, but Quinn stops her. "Don't touch me."

"Quinn, I want to touch you. I always want to touch you. Isn't that what the whole problem is?"

"You only want me because I'm here, because I'm the only woman available, the only woman foolish enough to-"

"Quinn, I went to a gay bar."

"When?"

"A couple weeks ago."

"Did you fuck anyone?"

"No."

"Then why did you go?"

"Because I was curious, about... how I would feel. About other women."

"And?"

"I like women, Quinn. I think I always have. But that doesn't mean... I could get another woman, if I wanted."

"Why don't you go and do that, then?"

"Because it's not what I want. I want you. I've wanted you since the moment I saw you, in that blue dress at the charity."

As moved as she is by the confession, Quinn can't let it go. "And what's going to happen to me when you don't want me anymore?"

"What?"

"Lust fades, Santana. Quicker than love."

Santana grabs Quinn's hand. "Is that what you think this is? Haven't you been listening to what I've been trying to tell you?"

"What?"

"That I can't lust after other women, I can't even look at them. That everywhere I go, all I see is you."

Quinn knows this is the closest thing she's going to get to love in her whole life. She wonders if Santana expects her to say it back, to say it too.

She kisses her instead, tries to slip a hand into her pants. "I... I want... I can't stay away from you, Santana. I want to be in your life."  
Santana pushes her away. "Why? Because you like fucking me? I can't throw away my life, Jaeger's life, because of sex, no matter how good it is."

"Nobody's talking about throwing anything away, Santana."

"Of course."

"Are you really so fucking stupid that you think the only reason I'm here is that you give good head? I bet Finn could give good head too, if I let him, but every time I even think about him touching me, it breaks my heart."

"Well then what, Quinn? You've made it perfectly clear I'm only good for sex."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because you refuse to talk to me about-"

"I had a fight with Finn, alright?"

Santana snaps her mouth shut. "Oh. I... was it bad?"

Quinn shrugs. "It's the first one we've ever had."

"Seriously? Like, ever?"

"Yeah. So I don't know if it's bad."

"Why did you fight?"

"Because he's a jerk."

"Come on, Quinn. He isn't. You know he isn't."

Quinn sighs. "Can we not talk about that now?"

"It does feel anti-climatic, doesn't it? After everything we've said tonight?"

"You trying to defend my husband? Yeah. Definitely."

"But what choice do we have, Quinn? This is part of our lives. Finn is part of our lives, whether we like it or not."

"I know. And I'll tell you what it was all about eventually. It's just that... there is some stuff I need to take care of first."

Santana nods. "OK." She pauses."So, what do you want?"

"Right now?"

"Yeah."

"A glass of water."

Santana smiles, and heads to the kitchen to get it. There, she finds what she had already forgotten, Jaeger's milkshake, resting on the counter.

She pours a glass of water from the faucet and grabs it, along with the milkshake, to take up to the guest room, where she hands them both to Quinn.

"Jaeger made this for you."

"No, he didn't."

"Well, maybe not. But he wanted you to have it."

Quinn shrugs and takes a sip, then makes a face. Santana frowns. "What?"

Quinn hands it to her. "You try it."

She does, and bursts out laughing. "Salt instead of sugar."

"You think he knew?"

"No."

"Maybe that's why he wanted me to have it."

"Come on, Quinn. He would never do that."

"You sure?"

"I know what he's like. He's my son."

* * *

Quinn gets up at six, like she has an alarm clock, and, without waking Santana, slips quietly out of the house. She walks to hers, only to find Finn sitting alone in the kitchen.

"Where's Millie?" is the first thing she thinks to ask.

"I gave her the day off."

Quinn nods.

"I got your ring back." He takes it out of his pocket, hands it to her.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Quinn sits down on a stool next to him.

"You didn't go running?"

"No."

"Santana'll miss you."

"She hasn't been keeping up with her running either. Where were you?"

"At my parents'."

"You went all the way over there?"

"Yeah."

Finn shrugs, and Quinn wonders if he's pretending he believes her. "OK."

 


	46. Chapter 46

This time, Quinn's watching her husband pack. It's the first time she's actually present, and it comes as kind of a surprise. She thought she knew everything about Finn, but watching him pack so meticulously, she realizes there might still be things she doesn't know. In the past, this would have made her feel jealous, insecure, but now, she kind of wonders at it, at the hidden corners and edges everyone has, even someone as simple and uncomplicated as Finn.

She doesn't feel sad, that he's going away, although there is a sort of melancholy in the air. He will be going away for longer than usual; he has a couple of games one right after the other, and Quinn's mostly sad because she isn't sad at all, sad that this is what her marriage's come down to, sad that Finn doesn't even seem to notice.

"Hon?"

"Yeah?"

"There's something I want to talk to you about. Before I leave."

"OK," Quinn says, trying to keep calm, but fear hammering in her chest. She knows it's practically impossible, for Finn to know; she's too good at covering her tracks. It is a talent she wasn't aware she had, something she's discovered she's good at, almost as if she had experience, as if she'd been cheating on her husband forever. But she's still afraid, because regardless of how careful she's been, her conscience is guilty. What she's doing is something she might be able to keep hidden from everyone, but she can't hide it from herself.

"I was just thinking..."

"Uh-huh," says Quinn, fiddling with her hair in an attempt to distract herself.

"Please don't take offense to this."

"I won't, Finn, Jesus. Just tell me."

He looks at her oddly. "Fine. I was just... what would you think about us going to marriage counseling?"

Whatever Quinn was expecting, it certainly wasn't this. She's so dumbfounded she just gapes at her husband. "Finn, I-"

"Look, you can't be that surprised, I mean, it's pretty obvious that our marriage isn't the best it's ever been-"

Quinn feels her eyes start to well-up. Of course it isn't. And of course it's all her fault.

Finn goes to her, and tenderly covers her hands with his. "Quinn, it's OK. All couples go through this. I just... I want us to work this out, you know? Before it gets any worse."

Quinn pulls her hands away from Finn, using them to wipe away tears.

"It doesn't mean I don't love you, it doesn't mean we don't love each other..."

 _Of course it does_ , Quinn thinks. Unless you can be in love with two people at the same time. Which everybody knows you can't.

Finn seems off put by her lack of response and just frowns. "But it's OK if you don't want to. I mean, I understand therapy isn't your favorite thing after-"

"Yes," Quinn says quickly. "Let's go."

Her husband's face lights up, and she thinks back to a time when that used to mean everything, and how it makes her sick to her stomach that it doesn't anymore.

"When you get back?"

Finn nods. "Yeah. When I get back."

* * *

 

It's funny how easy it is to pretend, when she's with Santana, that Finn's wife doesn't exists, that she's some other person. One she likes much better. One that, to both her fear and delight, is growing stronger, taking over the Quinn she always thought she was. A woman she never gave herself the chance to get to know, that she never gave herself the chance to be. A woman that's different, confident, that's comfortable enough to even walk around the room naked, something she never thought she'd be able to do, much less enjoy. She likes the way Santana's eyes linger on her body, like she's some sort of gift she can't wait to open, a cherry she can't wait to eat. She tells Santana this, and she smiles.

"It's weird, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"Well, I never really got comfortable being naked around Sam."

"That's probably because you're gay."

But Santana shakes her head. "No. I think it has more to do with being a woman."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for women being nude is an event."

"Huh?"

"Like, when we're naked, we are so incredibly conscious that we are. Self-conscious, even. We don't consider it our natural state. For men, it's not important, they feel they same nude as they do clothed, they've never been taught they need to hide their bodies or be ashamed of them."

Quinn bites her lip, thinks a second before answering. "I hate that."

"What?"

"That the world is so..."

"Unfair?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's not only about being a woman, it's also about being... you know."

"Gay?"

"Yeah. I mean, like, always having to have secrets and stuff."

"It might not be like that for everyone, though."

Quinn shrugs. "I figured it was."

Santana smiles like she said something funny. "Have you ever known anyone's who's gay?"

Quinn thinks hard. "Umm... I have a cousin somewhere, but... we don't really talk about him."

"How about any women?"

"No. What is it that women find so appealing about other women, anyway?"

Santana grins wickedly. "I don't know, you tell me."

Quinn blushes, avoiding the question. "What was it like?"

"What was what like?"

"The gay bar where you went."

Santana thinks it over for a minute. "Different. Intoxicating."

Quinn looks hurt. "Even though they weren't me?"

"Quinn... I don't know. Maybe I really am gay. But... I wish I'd taken you. I think you would have liked it."

"I don't think I could ever like anyone that wasn't you."

"Isn't that what you said to Finn?"

Quinn nods in defeat. "I meant it when I said it. I didn't think-"

"I know. I'm not judging you or anything. So, a gay cousin, huh? Somehow, I don't think he counts."

"So I guess I don't really know any gay people. Well, I know you."

"And you know  _I_  keep secrets."

"Yeah, but just... you know? I imagine all those little girls or teenagers or whatever, having to come out to their parents, after having kept it a secret for god knows how long. Always sneaking around like we are, never able to live our relationships normally."

"Quinn, we can't live normally because we're cheating on our husbands."

"He's not your husband."

"Yeah, boyfriend, whatever."

"Well, anyway, we still wouldn't be able to even if they weren't around."

"Why not?"

"Because there'd still be my parents, and my friends, and-"

"A whole other mountain of obstacles."

"I'm just saying I think it's cruel. That we have to live like this. That so many people have to live like this, that it's impossible to be gay and not have suffered shame, or doubt no matter how young you are. It's hateful."

It's one of the first times she's known Quinn to be upset not just for herself but for somebody else, and it touches her. She kisses the top of her head like she does with Jaeger, and, just like with her son, wishes somehow she could make the world a better, gentler, kinder place for her to inhabit.

* * *

 

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Actually," Santana says, seemingly shy all of sudden, "Jaeger has a softball game and I was going to ask you if you wanted to come, bring your kids, but... somehow I don't think that's quite your cup of tea, huh?"

"You're always my cup of tea."

She says it almost without thinking, and thinks she might see Santana blushing faintly, but neither of them say anything.

"So, you'll come?"

"Yeah. I mean, it should be fun. I've never actually been to a softball game before."

Santana looks taken aback. "You haven't?"

"No. I mean, I have three children, two of whom are girls... not exactly a little league team."

"I don't think I should have to tell you that women can play softball too."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Don't tell me you used to."

"Damn straight. And I was fucking good at it, too."

Quinn doesn't doubt this, and the picture it forms in her head is interesting, she can't deny that.

"Well, my girls aren't exactly-"

"You mean you didn't raise them to be exactly-"

"Maybe," Quinn admits. "But regardless, I mean, can you picture Daisy being into something as unrefined as softball?"

Santana shakes her head. "No. But I can picture Willow being into sports."

"Well, she isn't. Not even now, in her rebellious phase."

"What about when she was little?"

"She was exactly like Daisy. Girlier, even."

Santana frowns. "Was she naturally like that, or did you-?"

"Did I make her like that?" Quinn shrugs. "I don't even know anymore. Nature, nurture? Maybe a little bit of both. Though I guess if it really had been nature, she'd still be like that." She looks up at Santana. "I didn't mean to... impose anything on her, you know. I just... didn't know any better. It's the way I was I raised. I don't even know, sometimes, if this is the way I really am, or if I'm this way because my mother told me this was how I should be."

Santana never actually thought of Quinn as stupid, she could never have fallen in love with someone who was, but she'd never imagined her to be the kind of person who thought about such things too frequently either, and she wonders if she has always been like this, or just as of late.

"And sometimes I wonder if Willow really is like this, this girl she has turned herself into, or if she's just doing it to piss me off, to get her revenge on me for making her be something she wasn't, something she didn't want to be, even though she never complained. Or maybe she just wants to distance herself from being anything like me, maybe that's how much she despises me."

"I think despise is too strong a word. I mean, she's a teenager, it's normal for her to-"

"That's what Finn said."

"Well, Finn's right."

"As usual. He's all about letting the kids be themselves, but... I know he wishes he'd had a litter of boys to play football with too, and Elliott..." Her voice trails off.

"Elliott what?"

"Elliott isn't like that."

"Are you disappointed?"

Quinn shrugs. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't. I feel like we've missed out on so many things because he isn't-"

"Like you expect him to be? What you want him to be?"

Quinn frowns at her. "That makes it sound terrible."

"It is terrible, Quinn. I hope you know that. Weren't you saying yesterday that-"

"He's a kid, Santana."

"Yeah, so what?"

"Kids aren't-"

"Kids aren't here to please us. They're here to be who they are."

"It's not just me. I know Finn feels it, too, even though he doesn't say anything."

"Why don't you have another kid?"

"You really think that'd be a good idea?"

Santana shrugs. "No. But if it's a boy, it'd take the pressure off of Elliott."

"Yeah, Santana, cause right now is such a good time for me and Finn to have one."

They look at each other and Santana knows it's because of her, but somehow, she can't bring herself to feel too guilty about it.

* * *

 

They're in Sam's convertible, top down, Quinn and Santana in the front and their three children in the back. Quinn knows Santana hates the car, that she's doing this for the sake of her kids, who have, for some odd reason, never been inside one quite like this before. Maybe because Quinn would have never allowed it, would have said it was too dangerous, but lately, it feels like she's living in danger, constantly, all the time, so what does it matter?

"Thanks."

Santana smiles at her. "For what?"

"For bringing Sam's car."

Santana glances at their grinning children in the backseat, through their rear view mirror. "You think I did it for you?"

"Me, or my kids, maybe?"

Santana laughs. "Jaeger, tell Quinn why we brought the convertible."

"I wanted Elliott and Daisy to see it," Jaeger pipes up from the back.

"So it was all his idea?"

Santana nods. "So, if you wanna thank anyone, thank him."

Quinn feels a little weird, having to thank someone who is so much younger than her, and thinks she never thanked him for the other night either.

She turns around, and in spite of the sun, attempts to look into his eyes. "Thank you, Jaeger. For everything."

She hopes he knows what she's talking about, and somehow, she thinks she can see in his eyes that he does.

She turns back to Santana, satisfied, and Santana lays a hand on her arm. "I should have just let you think it was my idea, huh?"

"Fuck you," Quinn says easily, swatting her hand away.

"I just don't want you getting too spoiled, thinking-"

From the back, they hear three-year-old Daisy babbling loudly. ""Uck you."

Elliott gasps and covers her mouth with his hand. "Daisy, don't say that," he chides.

She pushes his hand away, pouting. "Why?"

"Because it's a bad word."

Santana and Jaeger are cracking up, and all Quinn can think about is what Finn will say if he ever happens to hear Daisy. She turns around, to look at her son, and thinks she will see judgment in his eyes, but instead, she's relieved to see he's smiling, too.

* * *

 

Little league games are exactly how Quinn imagined them. There is popcorn and crowds and over-bearing parents and hotdogs, and for a moment, she looks wistfully at Elliott.

"Oh, baby, wouldn't this be fun?"

He makes a face. "What, playing softball? Not really."

"But Jaeger really seems to love it. You guys could be on the same team-"

"No, mom."

Quinn shrugs as Santana sniggers at her a little. She feels Daisy tugging on her hand.

"Yeah?"

"Mommy, want one," she says, pointing at a stand where they're selling all sorts of baseball caps.

Quinn frowns at her. "Daisy, those caps are not really for little girls, they're more for boys-"

But Jaeger grabs Daisy's hand and drags her to the stand. "Come on. I got money. I'll get you one."

When they come back, Daisy is sporting a black Chicago White Sox cap, just her size, and a huge grin. Quinn can't help but smile back.

"Why the White Sox?"

Jaeger shrugs. "Beats me. She picked it out."

He leaves for the locker room just as they find seats, and hesitate on the seating arrangement because Quinn knows she should sit next to her children, but really, she just wants to sit next to Santana.

Santana, almost as if sensing the conflict within her, picks up Daisy. "It's fine. I'll sit next to you and she can sit on my lap."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." She turns to the little girl. "You wanna sit with me, Daisy?"

Daisy makes a face, considering it, and Santana holds up a bag. "I got popcorn."

The little girl grins and nods vigorously, making them both laugh.

Elliott sits on the other side of Quinn, anxiously looking out into the field.

"Mom," he scolds her.

"What?"

"Pay attention. I don't wanna miss Jaeger when he comes out. He's number 20."

Quinn nods. Her son's affection for Jaeger worries her, but at the same time, she can't help but think it might make things easier for her. She doesn't know what things, doesn't even know why she's thinking like this, but she is.

Next to her, she can hear Daisy giggling, and she glances away from the field for a minute to see why. Santana is wearing her daughter's cap, ridiculous and small atop her head, and a quick thought runs to her head.  _I could love you._

But who is she kidding? It isn't that she doesn't already. It's that every moment that passes, it gets more monumental.

* * *

 

Jaeger meets them at the entrance, sulking, and not taking this as well as Santana had expected he would.

"We were so fucking close."

"Jaeger," she says, warning him.

"What, mom? You use them all the time."

"Yes, I know, but I've told you it's not polite to use them in front of other people-"

"Since when do you care about polite? Since Quinn's here?"

"Yeah, since Quinn's here and her children aren't used to-"

"She seems to have no problem saying them either-"

"Jaeger, that is not up for discussion. I know you're upset you didn't win, but that doesn't give you the right to act like a spoiled-"

"I'm not acting like a spoiled brat, and I'm angry because I actually did my best and everyone else-"

"That's why softball is a team sport, Jaeger. It isn't only about you."

"I hate losing."

"Well, maybe you need to work on that."

"I ain't working on shit," he says, and Santana shakes her head and looks at Quinn. "That's his father talking right there."

"Why do you always say that when I do something you don't like?" Jaeger snaps.

Santana expects Quinn to be frowning, but she looks unexpectedly calm, and rubs her thumb over the inside of Santana's wrist so softly it's almost imperceptible.

"Of course he's like Sam, he's his father."

Santana almost wishes he wasn't, but she knows it'd be too stupid a thing to say out loud. Besides, it wouldn't even be true. If Jaeger wasn't Sam's, he wouldn't be Jaeger, and she's never really, truly wished her son was any different from the way he is. Instead, knowing her son is listening, she thinks of a better reply.

"Well, why can't he emulate Sam's good qualities?"

She isn't sure which, at the moment, she isn't even sure he has any, but she says it for her son's sake. Quinn smiles gently.

"Santana, Sam's a professional athlete. Of course he hates losing. Finn hates it, too, and he's the most even-tempered person I know. That's just how they're wired."

Jaeger is looking up at her suspiciously, wondering why, all of sudden, she seems to be defending him, to be on his side. His clear, piercing eyes seem to see right through her.

"You don't have to stick up for me. I can do it myself."

Santana stops dead in her tracks and turns back to look at her son. "You apologize this instant."

"No."

They're in the middle of the parking lot, they've almost, but not quite, made it to the car, and Santana's feet are glued to the floor.

"We're not moving another inch until you've apologized to Quinn."

"Well, then I guess we're gonna be here all afternoon, huh?"

If anyone can stand his ground, it's her kid, and Santana knows this better than anyone. Elliott and Daisy are looking sick and terrified, and though this is the first time Santana has ever seen them look like that, so obviously out of their comfort zone, she has no idea it is only the first of many.

Quinn would be lying if she said she didn't feel affronted, she doesn't think anyone's ever spoken so rudely to her before, much less a kid. And yet, there is something in Jaeger's eyes that bugs her, something needing to be addressed, and she knows if she doesn't have the guts to now, she never will.

She grabs Jaeger by the hand, leads him into the shade of a tree. Santana makes a move to follow, but Quinn fixes her eyes on her and she knows to stop almost instantly. She grabs Daisy and Elliott's hands instead, and takes them to the car.

She rolls down the window, so she can see Quinn squatting down and looking at Jaeger straight in the eye. Her voice floats and the wind carries some of her words over, but not enough of them to help Santana figure out what she's actually saying.

She seems to be explaining something very clearly, as though Jaeger were an adult and not a child, and Santana feels a lot of things then, but the biggest, and the most unexpected, is respect. Respect for this woman, who in spite of her youth and immaturity, can act like an adult when the time requires her to, and she wonders how many more secrets, how many more shades to Quinn's personality she has left to uncover yet.


	47. Chapter 47

Quinn convinces Willow to babysit a few nights for each week Finn is away. She pays her, of course, so Willow doesn't ask a lot of questions, not after the first time, when Quinn tells her she will be spending the night at Kitty's because someone tried to break into her house and she's afraid to sleep alone. It's been a scandal in the neighborhood, everyone heard about it, so Willow doesn't have a real reason to doubt her mother's word or suspect her story. Besides, she seemed so utterly disinterested when Quinn was explaining the reason for her absence that Quinn's beginning to think she only really cares about the money and not about whatever the fuck Quinn's doing. It's not like Willow doesn't like spending time with her brother and sister anyway, so the cash is just a plus.

Another, darker, side of Quinn's mind tells her maybe the reason Willow asks so little is that she doesn't really want to know, and that this might be due to two reasons. One, she doesn't give a fuck about her mother and her shit, which isn't all that hard to picture, or, two, the more worrisome alternative; she doesn't want to know because she suspects what's really going on. Quinn knows she's just psyching herself out, but lately it seems like thoughts come at a faster speed than ever, flooding her brain and her heart with what can only be described as fear, an emotion that, until that moment, she was not too familiar with.

She wishes it was as simple as it is with Jaeger, whom Santana doesn't even have to worry about shipping off somewhere, because usually spends nights at his friends' houses anyway. Santana seems to have a hard time getting him to stay home, something she complains about agreeably. But Daisy's too young to have friends, and Elliott doesn't have any, and he refuses to spend more than one night a week with Millie, whom he still doesn't consider family, even though, Quinn reasons with a pang, she's practically raised all three of her children. So she has no option but to resort to Willow, which she hates, because, besides all the aforementioned reasons, there is something about asking her teenage daughter for help that bugs her tremendously.

The truth is, sleeping over at Santana's is something she'd risk much more for, even Willow's suspicions. It's crazy, but she never has trouble sleeping when she's there, maybe because it means she's not alone, maybe because she's usually so worn out by the time they get around to it, or maybe it's just that her heart settles into a calm she's not sure she'd known before. She remembers when she gave birth to Willow, who had been, by all standards, the perfect baby. She had slept through the night in just the way Quinn's relatives and friends had assured her she wouldn't, and she slept through most of the day too, save a couple of hours, when she would just lay pleasantly in her crib, staring at the ceiling. It's kind of ironic, that she would be such trouble now, but maybe there isn't such a thing as the perfect child, and they all have to be a nightmare at one point or another. She remembers, on those first nights, taking Willow out of her crib, even though she slept just fine in it, and cradling in her arms on her own bed. She would doze off, in and out of sleep, and whenever she woke up, she'd be filled with an immense sense of peace, watching the sleeping infant in her arms. Sleeping next to Santana reminds her of that, though it's not exactly the same, but it's the closest thing she's felt in years. The closest thing to a love so all encompassing that it quiets everything outside, but also everything within.

* * *

 

"Willow, can you watch the kids again tonight? I-"

"I can't, mamma. Sorry."

Willow is fixing her makeup in front of the mirror in their foyer, and she doesn't seem sorry at all.

"Willow, I'm asking nicely."

"I know. But I can't. I'm playing tonight."

"Playing what?"

Willow rolls her eyes. "The drums. Remember? Your daughter's in a band, and she plays the drums? Or is that something you'd rather not think about unless you have to?"

She's right, but Quinn doesn't think she's in a position to say that.

"Since when do you go out without asking for permission?" she asks instead.

"Since Daddy's not here and you don't care."

"I do care-"

"Yeah, the only reason you care is so that you'll be able to tell me not to go."

"I am your mother, you know," Quinn says weakly, like she knows at this point that's not even a valid argument.

"I know you are."

"And, if I wanted to, I could make you stay home with the children instead of going to that... thing."

"Yeah, but then I would dislike you more than I already do, and, do you really want that?"

Quinn doesn't say anything, she thinks this is the first time Willow's ever made an allusion to their not-so-great relationship, and her daughter takes this as encouragement to go on.

"Or, maybe you're past caring, just like I am. And in that case, I would have to ask, where it is that you want to go so badly that you're willing to risk a stand-off with the only person you're afraid of?"

Quinn doesn't mention that there is one more person she's afraid of aside from Willow; herself. Just now, she's having the urge to slap her daughter again, the way she did not so long ago, but this time, she's got everything to lose, so she restrains herself.

"You don't even know what you're talking about, Willow," she says, trying to remain as calm as she can.

Her daughter is surprised, maybe because she's not used to her mother reigning in her emotions. Quinn usually doesn't have to keep calm, she's never had to, Finn always has her back. But in this, she's utterly alone, it is up to her and her alone not to make a disaster of things.

Willow stares at her mother coolly and nods, almost as if admitting defeat, or, rather, letting herself be defeated. "You're right. I don't."

* * *

 

"Santana?"

"Yeah?"

"We're not gonna be able to see each other today."

"How come? You don't want to?"

Even through the phone, she can hear the teasing in Santana's voice. She knows that whatever the reason may be, that will never be it.

"No," she says anyway, as if Santana needed to be reassured. "Willow's refusing to watch the kids."

"Well," Santana says good-naturedly. "We knew it wasn't gonna last forever."

"What do you mean?" Quinn asks, annoyed.

"I mean that she was bound to get tired of watching them, or she was bound to get suspicious, or have something better to do. I mean, she  _is_  a teenager."

"Yeah, so what?"

"Well, teenagers usually have busy lives."

"I didn't."

"Oh, come on, I'm sure you did. How about all those pageants, and cheerleading, and-"

"Well, yeah, but I had a 9 o'clock curfew."

Santana laughs. "Somehow, that doesn't surprise me. So what's her excuse?"

"Whose? Willow's?"

"Uh-huh."

"She has a concert or something."

"That's cool," Santana says, sincerely. "Much cooler than anything I would have been doing at her age."

"What would you have been doing at her age?"

"I would have been locked up in a lab, probably. Like the huge geek I was. Am."

Quinn smiles. Santana doesn't often talk about her life, she doesn't seem to have this constant need to share everything like Quinn does, so it's a gift, hearing her talk about it without much prompting.

"I wish Willow was like that."

"No you don't. She'd be an outcast."

"She  _is_  an outcast."

"No, she isn't. She has friends, doesn't she? She goes out, she does things."

"Honestly, I'd rather have her be any way than the way she is."

"And which way is that?"

"I don't know. Rebellious."

Santana laughs. "I was like that, too. There are a lot of different ways to be rebellious."

"Or you can just be normal. Like I was."

"You seriously never, ever rebelled against your parents?"

"No. I was too afraid of my mother. This is the first thing I think I've ever done that would qualify."

Santana pauses before answering. "Is that what this is, then?"

"What?"

"Us? Is it just you being rebellious?"

"Well, it's part of it," Quinn admits, not all willingly. "But... don't be stupid. Of course that's not all of it. I... how could I possibly want to, so badly? Enough to get myself into this?"

She can hear Santana smiling. "Well, maybe this will be the beginning of something."

"Something?"

"Yes. A new you. A pink-haired, punk Quinn."

She shudders at the thought of it, and Santana laughs. "You know what?"

"What?"

"I can't not see you."

"Huh?"

"I really, literally cannot go a day without seeing you."

Quinn bites back a smile. "OK, so what are you gonna do about it?"

"I got a plan."

"What is it?"

"It's a surprise."

"A surprise?"

"Yeah, I just thought of it."

"Are we going somewhere?"

"Yes, we are."

"Can you give me a hint?"

"No."

"Well, how am I supposed to know how to dress, then?"

"Just... uh... wear jeans. A t-shirt. Something informal." She pauses. "Wait. Do you even own any jeans?"

"One pair. That I never wear. To what god forsaken place are you taking me, Santana?"

"Not just you. The kids, too. Get them ready. I'll text you before I pick you up."

* * *

 

The fact that Jaeger is wearing black jeans, a black t-shirt that says  _The Ramones_  on it (not that Quinn even knows what that is) a gray beanie and a couple of temporary tattoos really does nothing to assuage Quinn's fears that she's really not going to like the place where they're going. Her kids look rather tame by comparison and she wonders if she should have asked Willow for advice on how to dress them before she left. It would have been hard, thought, since she doesn't even know where they're going, but she has a feeling Elliott's crisp button-down and Daisy's, albeit dirty, pink tutu are not gonna cut it. Her daughter doesn't seem too concerned about it, she wouldn't have worn anything else either way, but her son is looking at Jaeger with open-eyed admiration.

"Mom, why didn't I dress like that?"

Quinn turns to look at him, surprised. "Would you have wanted to? I mean, you don't even own those kinds of clothes, El."

He shakes his head. "No. I guess not. I just think he looks cool."

Quinn herself feels weird and uncomfortable in the clothes she's wearing, thought she did pair her plain gray t-shirt with some heels. Santana is wearing a shirt that matches Jaeger's, and Quinn almost laughs when she notices.

Santana grins. "What? I'm just grateful he's not old enough to be embarrassed yet. Let me enjoy this while it lasts."

They get in her truck and almost immediately arrive outside of what looks like a warehouse, with plenty of motorcycles parked outside. Quinn groans softly and turns to Sanatana. "You sure this place is appropriate for the kids?"

Santana raises her eyebrows. "You really think I'd bring my child somewhere that wasn't?"

"Good point," Quinn mutters before taking a deep breath and following Santana and their awe-struck children inside.

* * *

 

There is a lot of noise and barely any light. The place is packed. It's mostly teenagers, though Quinn can spot a couple of proud-looking adults, their eyes glued to the stage with an expression more fervent than that of any of the teenagers. She would have expected them to look like, well, like Santana, cool and stylish, sort of like rockstars, but instead is rather surprised to find they look a little geeky and out of place, probably a lot like her, but still happy and beaming.

She glances on stage and is surprised, and not so much, to see Willow sitting behind the drums, hair flying wildly. For a minute, an image of Finn flashes through her head, though she doesn't know why, since she never saw him play the drums. Willow has the same look on her face that her father has when he's out on the field, though, completely focused and fulfilled, as if there wasn't room for anything else. She wonders if she's ever felt that way about anything, and immediately answers herself. Of course she has. She feels that way about the woman standing next to her, she thinks, without realizing the danger of that statement.

Willow doesn't seem to notice they're there, but, then again, she doesn't seem to notice anyone else either, nothing besides her drums. Her band plays for about twenty minutes longer, twenty minutes after which Quinn wishes that she could say she understands her better, or that she feels moved in some way or another, but she would be lying. The kids seem to be having fun, though. Elliott and Daisy are chasing each other around the place and Jaeger is completely entranced, jamming to the music until the very last minute. His mother, too, seems to be enjoying the show; there's a soft smile on her face and she's not taking her eyes off the stage.

When they're done playing, Willow crosses the room to meet them. She doesn't seem surprised to see Santana or Jaeger, but raises her eyebrows when she spots Quinn, and turns to Santana. "How did this happen?"

Santana shrugs.

"You seriously got her to come? How?"

"I didn't tell her where we were going."

Willow snorts a little and looks at her mother. "You enjoy the show, mamma?"

Quinn shrugs, trying to look at least a little excited, but failing miserably.

"Where are the kids?"

Santana gestures to Daisy and Elliott, who are running towards them at top speed, until they've wrapped themselves around Willow's legs. She laughs, the first time Santana's ever seen her do so, and messes with their hair.

"You guys didn't even see me play, huh?"

They both shake their heads vigorously, too young to look guilty, but then Jaeger speaks up.

"I watched you. Me and mom watched you."

Willow turns her eyes on them, with masked gratitude. "What did you guys think?"

"You're very good," Santana says automatically. "I mean, I know that's what I'm supposed to say, but I really do mean it. You're creative. You're... authentic."

"You could have gone easier on everyone else," Jaeger comments carelessly. "We could barely hear them playing over you sometimes."

Willow narrows her eyes at Jaeger, as irritated as Quinn usually is at having to listen to the opinion of someone so young, but then Elliott squeezes her hand and she laughs it off. "You're probably right. I guess no one can say I don't like being the center of attention."

They all laugh, until Willow hears her name being called out, by the vocalist of her band, who's waving her over to what looks like a makeshift bar.

"I'm coming," she yells across the room, and Quinn flinches.

Willow turns to them. "Gotta go. But thanks for coming."

She starts moving across the crowd, then stops abruptly and turns back around. "You guys want a drink or something?" she asks uncertainly.

"Like, alcohol?" Quinn squeaks, sounding like a kid and embarrassing herself.

"Yeah. Or not. They have water, too."

Quinn turns to look at Santana uncertainly, and Willow doesn't miss the fact that, when in doubt, she looks at Finn the same way, too.

Santana shrugs and stares right back at Quinn, not offering an easy way out, like Finn would have done. "Whatever you want, Quinn. It's up to you."

"But... the kids?"

"We can have sodas," Jaeger pipes up, eyes shining at the possibility. Santana laughs and looks at Quinn again. "So, no pressure."

Quinn nods at her daughter, and they follow her. She quickly hands the kids a couple of cans of soda so they'll scamper off. Santana has a beer and Willow has water, which Quinn is certain she only does for her sake; she has no doubt Willow has no problem drinking it up when her mother is not around, and she feels oddly grateful to her for not putting her in that predicament. She ends up not drinking anything and not talking much, just looking around and listening to Santana and Willow talk about music. Santana can see her eyes glazing over, and at one point turns to her.

"So, what did you think, Quinn?"

"Think? Of what?"

"Of the concert."

Quinn shrugs. "Oh, I... Willow, no offense, but... it's all just a bunch of noise to me."

Willow doesn't look offended, not even upset, and just nods. "Mamma, you don't get me. It's OK. Maybe you never will."

The words get stuck in Quinn's throat.  _But you're my daughter. I want to get you. I should get you. This is all wrong._

Somehow, she knows Willow is speaking about something more than music.

Santana is trying her best not to look at either of them, trying not to interrupt what she thinks might be a moment, only she isn't sure, and it passes by very quickly.

Willow gets up, suddenly, and fixes her eyes on Santana. "I'm leaving," she says.

"OK?"

"Thanks for coming."

"You're welcome."

"And thanks for bringing my mom."

"No problem."

"I'm taking the kids out for some ice cream."

Quinn nods, unsure of where this is going. "OK?"

"I'll take Jaeger, too," Willow says, looking at Santana, who nods.

"We'll be home in a couple hours. I'll drop Jaeger off at you place."

Santana nods again, wordlessly. This thing Willow is doing, whether she knows it or not, is buying them time.


	48. Chapter 48

 

 

"Fuck."

"What is it?"

Santana had been in such a hurry to get out of the truck and into the house, knowing their time was limited, that she somehow managed to slam the door of the truck right on the tip of her finger. It's bleeding now, and quickly turning purple.

"Nothing."

She shakes Quinn off and makes her way inside and to the bathroom, where they keep a first aid kid. She knows exactly what to do and it's not a big deal, or at least, it wouldn't be if the time she was spending trying to patch this up wasn't time away from Quinn.

"Santana."

"Yeah."

"Let me do it."

"I can do it myself."

"You don't have to do it yourself. That's the point."

She looks up into Quinn's eyes. She's right. This doesn't have to be time away from her. But the notion is strange. She's never  _not_  had to do things herself, she's always licked her own wounds. Maybe she doesn't know any other way.

She watches silently as Quinn wipes the blood from her fingers gently and bandages the injured one almost to perfection. She couldn't have done it any better herself, much less with one hand. Quinn laughs at the look on her face.

"Why do you look so surprised?"

"I didn't think... I didn't think you'd be... into this."

"Into what? First aid? Is anybody really into that?"

"No, but, I mean-"

"You mean you didn't think I'd be any good at it."

"No, I-" Santana realizes it's stupid to say anything about this now, the answer is obvious from the blush on her face.

"I  _am_  a mother, Santana."

"Yeah, I know, but... your kids don't seem the type to get injured."

Quinn laughs again. "Yeah. Remember Elliott's banged-up knee?"

Santana smiles. "You seemed so freaked out. Maybe that's why I thought... besides, he only got hurt because of Jaeger."

"I  _was_  freaked out. But his knee was the last thing on my mind, believe it or not."

"Oh, I believe it."

"And you defended Jaeger so vehemently. I can't believe you're admitting it was his fault now."

"Well, I mean, it wasn't really but... if he hadn't been there, Elliott would have never..."

"I know. I think that's the first major injury he's faced in his life."

Santana raises her eyebrows. "That wasn't even a big deal."

"Well, like you said, my children don't have a knack for getting into trouble. Not the kind that leads to injury, at least. Too bad I can't say the same for you."

She grabs Santana's bandaged finger and holds it up to her lips, kissing it. It makes Santana's eyes well-up, for some reason. She can feel her finger throbbing and that makes her want to cry even more, which is stupid. She never cries, much less out of pain.

She doesn't know if Quinn notices what's going on; all she does is place a gentle kiss on her lips.

* * *

 

Quinn throws herself on Santana's bed as soon as they get there. "These shoes are killing me," she moans.

Santana rolls her eyes and gets down on her knees to take off Quinn's heels. She does it slowly, not because she means to, but because her injured finger is forcing her to take it slow. "You are the only person who would wear heels when you were very clearly told not to wear formal clothes."

She grabs the shoes and tosses them across the room. Quinn wants to protest, but instead, her eyes follow Santana as she disappears inside her closet and comes back with an unopened shoe box. She hands it to her wordlessly and Quinn opens it to find a pair of gorgeous pink slippers inside. She looks up at Santana questioningly.

"Gift from my mother-in-law. Obviously, I never wore them."

Quinn takes the slippers out of the box with a smile. "They're so cute. Can I have them?"

"Why do you think I'm giving them to you?"

"You really haven't worn them?"

"No. Why? You don't want them if I have?"

Quinn makes a face. "No, of course not. How could you think that? It's just..."

"What?"

"Well, when I was a little girl, I loved getting new shoes."

"I bet you did," Santana says, picturing it in her mind almost as if it was happening right before her eyes, in another dimension, maybe.

"No, but the reason I liked it was that Daddy would let me jump on the bed with them on, like, before they ever touched the floor."

"Oh, I bet your mother loved that."

Quinn grins. "She hated it. But it was so much fun."

"And I'm assuming you want to do that now?"

Quinn nods, almost too excited for words.

Santana shrugs and gestures to the bed. "Go right ahead."

Quinn puts on the slippers and gets up on the bed, then frowns as if something wasn't quite right.

"You got some music or something?"

Santana laughs and takes out her cell phone. "What do you want?"

"Something I can dance to."

"Oh, you're gonna dance?"

Quinn nods. "And don't even pretend you don't like the idea."

"Oh, I love the idea."

"Good. What do you want me to dance to?"

"Something by the Rolling Stones."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Santana. Be serious."

"OK. Bruno Mars. Marry you."

Quinn laughs. "Give me that. I have something better."

She snatches Santana's phone away from her. A song comes on, one Santana can't place, but when Quinn hands her back the phone, she cracks up. Marry the Night. Lady Gaga.

"Since when do you like Lady Gaga?"

"Don't  _you_  like her?"

"A couple songs. But I've been telling you to listen to them since forever, and you never wanted to."

"You have to let me find things at my own rhythm, Santana. You can't always be telling me what to do and what to like, you need to let me figure it out on my own. I'll like it better that way. Discovering things myself."

Santana nods. It's a fair enough point, and she thinks she might like Quinn better for it. Just when she thought she couldn't like her anymore.

"OK, now, shut up and let me dance."

Santana wasn't saying anything, she wasn't planning on saying anything, and she definitely won't say anything, now. She watches as Quinn dances, grinding and twerking on the bed like it's nobody's business, and at first she's laughing so hard she can't breathe, but Quinn doesn't even seem to notice. She's so absorbed in what she's doing, bouncing so high, and closing her eyes, and Santana is beginning to feel nervous.

In that moment, Santana feels like she can't catch her, like if she falls, she won't be strong enough to hold her, because her arms won't open wide enough to contain this creature who has grown so large before her eyes in a matter of minutes.

In that moment, Quinn is not the person who is love with Santana, or the woman who is cheating on her husband, but somebody else altogether, a part of some grander thing.

* * *

 

"I don't get why you always have to wear these push-up bras. They look really fucking uncomfortable."

"Mamma started buying them for me when I was like, sixteen. She always said I had small breasts."

Santana makes a strangled noise. "I'm sorry, but has your mother ever even seen your tits?"

"Santana, no! That's disgusting."

"Well, then how the hell does she know, then?"

"Because you can tell-"

"Quinn, I've seen your tits up close, and I think they're perfect."

* * *

 

Quinn keeps grinding, grinding, grinding until she's coming.

She blushes after. "I'm sorry."

Santana laughs. "Don't worry. I know it's not about me."

Quinn's eyes turn wide on her, as if it was the first time she's ever considered this possibility. "Huh?"

"I know it's not about me, right now. You're just... using me. To get off."

Quinn climbs up her body and kisses her on the lips, time after time. "Oh, no, Santana. Baby, don't think that."

But Santana pulls away. "It's OK. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with it. It's like that for everyone."

"It is?"

"Yes."

"For you, too?"

"Yes. I love you, but there's a point when you could be anyone."

Quinn presses a finger to Santana's lips. "Hush. I know."

"Do you mind?"

"No. I'm glad I'm of service to you."

Santana laughs. "I'm glad to be of service to you, too."

She pauses for a moment, to look at the face hovering above hers, strange in the shadows, until she realizes Quinn's pupils are blown so wide, the gold is almost gone from her eyes. She always thought it was that color that made them special, but now, she feels like she likes them even more. She looks into Quinn's eyes again and laughs.

"What?"

"Your eyes. They're dark."

"What?"

Quinn gets up immediately and looks at herself in the mirror, horrified. She turns to Santana, like she has the answer to everything. Maybe to Quinn she does.

"Why?"

"Because your pupils are blown wide."

"But... why are they?"

"Because you're horny. That's what happens when you're turned on."

"Really?" Quinn asks, wide eyed. "But why does it happen?"

Santana shrugs. "I'm not sure, I just know it does."

"How can there be something you don't know?"

Santana laughs and laughs and laughs. "Quinn, are you kidding me? There is so much shit I don't know."

But she's not gonna lie. Quinn knows so little about her own body that Santana relishes every opportunity to explain it to her.

Quinn is still staring at her pupils in the mirror, fascinated, not even concerned, anymore, that there is stuff Santana doesn't know."

"I look ugly like this."

Santana goes to her and kisses her. "No, you don't. You just look different. I'd never seen anyone whose pupils dilated so much. You're a medical rarity."

"What if it never goes away?"

"It will."

"But what if it doesn't?"

"It will. But if doesn't, I think you look pretty like this."

"Finn won't like it."

"Of course he won't," Santana says bitterly. "Not if he finds out the reason you look like this. Is that what this is about? You're afraid of him knowing?"

"Santana, I'm so happy I want everyone in the world to know. Just not him."

Santana grabs Quinn's hand. "Are you really?"

"What?"

"Happy?"

"Yes. Can't you tell?"

"Right now, yes. But half the time... I never know with you."

"Well... I've been taught to suspect these kinds of feelings, Santana."

Santana laughs, amused. "What, happiness? _"_

" _This_  kind of happiness. Where you feel like you're losing everything." She pauses. "Are you happy?"

Sanatana sighs. "Oh, Quinn."

"What?"

"I wanna lay the ground down at your feet."

* * *

 

Quinn doesn't know when she falls asleep, only that she wakes up with Santana's fingers inside of her.

Everyone always told her, that she belonged with Finn, but it is with Santana that she feels a true sense of belonging, of control. With Finn, there was compromise, there was give and take, but she feels she would give Santana whatever she asked for, even if it meant crawling through the mud in chains. She has never felt possessed by anything so entirely. It is the ultimate pleasure, but also the ultimate shame. Only for Quinn, they go hand in hand now. Maybe they always have.

For Santana, it's impossible to believe that somebody else knows the sounds of Quinn's heart, beating against the quiet of the night. If only she knew that Finn knows them so well he can spots patterns and symphonies by just putting his fingertips on his wife's chest. And there is also the fact that she has to pretend, when they're chest to chest, that she can't hear Quinn's heart fluttering in fear. If only she could bring herself to care. The only thing she knows is, she had gone through life searching, searching, searching. Behind a microscope, inside herself, in her own blood and hair, hoping that, maybe if she zoomed in enough, the answers would all be lying there, plain and simple. But the truth is, she never quite found whatever if was that she was looking for.

Now, she feels like she's finally finding.

* * *

 

Quinn and Daisy are warming up in front of the mirror a couple of minutes before class starts. Quinn is still tired and sore from the night before, but she feels happy, although, when she looks in the mirror, a somewhat bittersweet sensation surges in her chest.

She can see, now, very clearly in her reflection, the girl who danced for Santana last night. Before, the only thing she has seen in the mirror had been Finn's wife. Yesterday, in Santana's room, she had felt liberated, independent, as if she had been breaking free from all restraints. She had, for the three minutes that song lasted, felt like she understood everything, like she had known who she was.

But today, back here, there is no use. When she looks in the mirror, she sees Santana, and it's not that she minds, not exactly, but there is really no way to avoid the guilt that is chasing her.

Daisy's looking at her, too, and even her wide, innocent eyes seem to be staring at her mother's reflection like she can't quite recognize her, like she's not sure what's going on.

She picks up Daisy and looks into her eyes. It's not something she's ever tried before, not with any of her children, and not much with people in general, but after looking into Santana's eyes so much, she's beginning to find out she's curious about everybody else's, too.

Her daughter's eyes are like mirrors, and she doesn't like what she sees reflected in them. Daisy brings up her tiny hands to her mother's face and runs them all over, almost as if she were trying to recognize, with touch, what she can no longer see in person. Quinn hopes with all her heart that some familiar part of her still remains, although what is familiar about her old self if not Finn? And she's not sure if she wants him to be a part of her anymore.

* * *

 

Santana is speeding through traffic and cursing out whoever gets in her way. It is something she usually tries not to do when Jaeger is around, but today is the exception. Or maybe everything is an exception ever since Quinn walked into her life. But it doesn't matter. All she cares about is getting to ballet class on time.

 _Jaeger's ballet class_ , she reminds herself rather sheepishly. She's as excited about this as if she were going to class herself, even though ballet is something she would have never been excited about, unless Quinn was the teacher. She could literally be teaching a class on scrapbooking and Santana would find it fascinating, and maybe it is this fascination, this excitement, that's overshadowing what until now had been her priority, that won't let her see that Jaeger, in fact, no longer seems very excited about this at all.

She parks as close as she can to the entrance, brakes screeching, grabs Jaeger's backpack from the backseat and tosses it to him.

"Let's go, Jaeger. Get out, hurry."

Her son grabs his backpack with absolutely no enthusiasm whatsoever, and remains in his seat, door still firmly shut.

"What's wrong?"

Jaeger shrugs, and Santana wants to kick herself in the stomach. There is something wrong with her child and she was so fucking worried about her own love life (Love life? Seriously? At her age? And she's practically married, for crying out loud. She doesn't have a right to a love life, at least not with someone who isn't Sam) that she didn't even take the time to notice. Guilt kicks in and she puts a hand to Jaeger's forehead.

"You feelin' sick or something?"

But he's not warm to the touch, and he shakes his head.

"No. It's just... I have to tell you something."

"What is it?"

"I don't want to go to ballet class anymore."

Whatever Santana expected, it certainly wasn't this. She glances at her son. "Are you... do you not like ballet anymore?"

She had always thought he might outgrow it, but if that's it, she has to admit it happened sooner than she expected. Something like fear begins settling inside of her, wondering if maybe someone made fun of her son and she didn't notice, wasn't there to defend him, or if maybe he's going to turn out to be just like his father after all. Maybe the time has come, when the little boy who loved ballet and whom she loved so dearly is finally about to disappear. The thing she had dreaded all along, the moment when Jaeger would stop being Jaeger and inevitable turn into something more adult, something she feared she wouldn't like as much, even when it was her own flesh and blood. There was only so long someone like Jaeger could survive unchanged in this world.

But her son shakes his head, calming those fears, and giving her completely new ones instead.

"No. I still like ballet. I think."

"Then?"

"I just... mom, I know she's your friend and all, but... I don't wanna go to class with Quinn anymore."

Santana's never had to keep her emotions in check in front of her son, he's the only person she's ever tried to be completely honest with, so it pains her to have to arrange her features into what she hopes is an understanding face.

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I just... I feel uncomfortable."

"Did Quinn say something to you or something? Because I thought she'd stopped-"

"No, she did. She's perfectly nice, now. That's not it."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know, mom. Do I really have to explain? Isn't it enough to just say I don't want to?"

"Of course it's enough. You don't have to explain." She pauses. "Do you want me to find you another teacher? Another class?"

But her son shakes his head again. "No. I think I'm gonna take a break from ballet for a while."

 


	49. Chapter 49

 

"Mom?"

Santana wakes with a start. She doesn't know where she is, exactly, but the voice calling out her name she knows so well that she knows she's either in heaven or earth, where she still firmly believes angels exist. She knows of at least two, though she would never dream of telling anyone.

She remembers her parents, in all their disaster, being religious, and maybe that's why she has so much disdain for it. The irony seemed to escape them; that of two drunk, drug-addled people who were fanatics of religious memorabilia. But, then again, her parents had always been a walking contradiction. The Lopez's had, for as long as forever, as far as Santana was concerned, been Catholics. Her mother's family she wasn't so sure about, but they were Christians too, which might have explained Santana's hatred for the religion as a whole; a disdain she was pretty sure she had passed on to Jaeger.

She remembered her father's parents taking them to church frequently, after he'd passed away. She'd be lying if she said she didn't remember his funeral, his burial, the band of mariachis playing. Just like he'd asked. He'd wanted to go out like life was a party, which his, Santana thought bitterly, certainly had been.

They'd prayed the rosary at her grandmother's house for what felt like months, some Mexican tradition she knew nothing about, except for the fact that it meant spending hours on her knees in a room full of candles and incense that made her feel ridiculously claustrophobic and small, even when she was the ballsiest child in the world.

She remembers, distinctly, some of her aunts and uncles, her father's siblings, trying to argue with their mother about the whole thing.

"Ma, he wasn't even religious."

"He always wore his rosary around his neck."

"Yeah, and he was a fucking junkie." Privately, nine-year-old Santana couldn't have agreed more.

"My son is going to be buried like decent people are buried, and he's going to have every shot I can give his soul of going to heaven."

 _Yeah, like that's gonna help_ , Santana had thought. Still, during those days, she realized there was something to be found in all of these weird rituals, particularly the rosary. Praying it was so monotonous, it somehow seemed to dull the pain of everything. It was so boring it numbed you, and Santana had wondered if, that in itself, was the point, the blessing.

She shakes her head from theses thoughts, wondering why they're coming today of all days, when they've been buried under for so long, and turns her attention to Jaeger.

He's frowning at her worriedly. "Are you alright?"

It isn't until she spots the concerned look on her son's face that she realizes where she is. She's in his room, body half-strewn over the microscope, slides and papers a mess on the floor. She picks herself up quickly.

"How... how did I get here?" she asks her son, still disoriented.

"I don't know, mom. I just got home from school and I found you here."

He picks up a slide from the floor, apparently noticing them for the first time. "What is this? What were you doing?"

Santana knows exactly what it is, what she doesn't know is what she was doing. She secretly wonders if maybe she got drunk during the morning and that's why she can't remember shit. Or maybe she hit her head against something. She puts a hand up to her forehead and feels nothing, but immediately bends over as she feels a sharp pain in her stomach. She bites the inside of her cheek and turns to Jaeger, deciding to skirt his question, at least until she can remember.

"What, you mind me being in your room now?"

"No," Jaeger says simply. "I know you come in my room when I'm not here."

"You do?"

"Yeah."

"Well, didn't you ever wonder why?"

"No. I know you come in here to use my microscope."

"How did you know that?" Santana asks, a little disconcerted.

Jaeger rolls his eyes. "Because it always looks like you used it, mom. Geez, I'm not stupid, you know."

She brushes the hair away from her son's eyes. "I know you're not," she says softly. "I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"About using your microscope without asking you. About breaking into your room."

"It's OK. I don't really mind. It's not like I keep secrets from you."

Santana wonders if this is a dig at her, and sighs. "I'm glad you don't."

"I thought we told each other everything."

"Jaeger, no offense, but you're a kid. You can hardly expect me to tell you  _everything_."

"I don't. I just... if you were working on a cool project, why didn't you tell me?" He glances at Santana's sketches of butterflies and insects. "You know I love this stuff."

Santana sighs. "Oh, Jaeger. I... I don't know why I didn't tell you."

But, the truth is, she knows exactly why she didn't tell him. She didn't want to have to put him in a position where he would have to keep secrets from his father. She had felt it was unfair, asking her son to share something with her that he couldn't share with Sam. Just because she hadn't had a real father didn't mean she didn't want Jaeger to have one. As far as she was concerned, if Sam had any redeeming qualities, it was the fact that he was an alright dad.

"Do you wanna tell me about it now?" Jaeger asks. "I mean, if you want. You don't have to."

Santana nods. "Yeah. I just... I kind of have a stomachache."

"I can make you some tea."

"You know how to make tea?"

Jaeger nods.

Her son never ceases to surprise her.

* * *

Santana sips on her tea slowly. "So... I... I don't know if ever actually told you this, but... I'm pretty smart."

Jaeger raises his eyebrows. "I know that, mom. That's why I'm smart. You don't think I got it from dad, do you?"

Santana laughs. "You got my sense of humor, too. Which is good, since he doesn't have any."

She covers her mouth with her hand immediately. The one thing she had always promised herself she wouldn't do was talk ill of Sam in front of their son. She winces. "Sorry."

Jaeger shrugs. "It's OK. He  _doesn't_  have a sense of humor." He pauses. "He does have a kickass tackle, though."

"Yes. Your father does have many... talents. They're just... different from ours."

Jaeger frowns at his mother. "From yours, maybe. I got your brains  _and_  his athletic ability. I'm pretty much the perfect child."

"Modest, too," Santana says, sipping on her tea again as she tries to hold back laughter, and neglecting to mention that she, too, was a pretty decent athlete when she was young.

Jaeger laughs. "Well, maybe not that modest."

Santana picks up where she left off. "So, anyway, point was... the reason I'm smart is that I went to school for a long time."

"How long?"

"Ummm, after college, like, a couple years, maybe."

"You mean you went to graduate school?"

"Yup. I'm a biochemist."

"How did I not know that?"

"Because I never mentioned it."

"I know, but... I usually figure stuff out, even when don't. But.. why didn't you?"

Santana shrugs. "Your father doesn't like talking about it."

"Is that why you have to hide in my room?"

"Kind of. Is that pathetic?"

Jaeger shrugs. "Not really, mom. But you should do what you love."

"I love  _you_ , Jaeger."

"I know. But I'm not an excuse."

"What?"

"I'm not an excuse. For you not to do what you love."

* * *

"So, I talked to Jaeger today?"

"About what?"

"My job."

Quinn flips over on the bed to look at Santana, her magnificent ass on full display. "You told him?"

"Yup."

"How did he take it?"

"Like a fucking adult."

"Of course he did."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Just... you guys are so... logical."

"You say it like it's a bad thing."

"It isn't but... not everything has to be logical, you know."

"I've been taught that if something isn't logical, there is no reason for me to trust it."

"That's crazy. Our love isn't logical."

Santana looks at her incredulously. "My love for you is the most logical thing in my life."

"Really? Explain it to me, then."

Santana shrugs, as if having been asked to complete a simple task. "I was disillusioned with life. I met you. You were hot. You were an escape. I told myself, I'll have this girl. And now I do."

Quinn laughs as she gets up. "God, you're fucking arrogant."

Santana grabs her by the hand. "Wait. Where are you going?"

"It's Sunday, remember?"

"So what?"

"I have church."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Really? You'd rather go to that fucking place than stay here in bed with me?"

"Don't be so dramatic."

"I mean, we hardly spend any time together and-"

"You could always come with me."

Santana groans. "Quinn, don't do this to me."

"What?"

"You know I can't say no to you."

Quinn laughs as Santana gets up, too.

"Don't laugh. It's not fucking funny. I don't even get why you go there in the first place. You seriously care what people think about you that much?"

Quinn raises her eyebrows. "You think that's why I go?"

"Isn't it? I mean, you pretty much said so yourself."

"Well, it kind of is, but lately... I don't know. I get some sort of weird comfort from it." She pauses. "Which is really fucking ironic, given I've actually joined the ranks of the sinners, now."

Santana huffs. "There's, like, no way to _not_  be in the ranks of the sinners, Quinn. It's like being alive is a sin. I mean, with so many rules, I'd like to meet someone who doesn't break them on a regular basis."

Quinn shrugs. "Maybe. But still."

Santana throws on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. They grab a bite from the kitchen and then head out. Jaeger, who is making his way back from a friend's house, spots them.

"Where are you guys going?"

"Church," Quinn responds automatically.

Jaeger raises his eyebrows and turns to his mother. "Seriously?"

Santana shrugs helplessly.

"Why?"

What can she say to this, really? She thinks back to the conversation she had with Jaeger a couple of days ago and decides to quote her son.

"Do I really have to explain?"

The corners of Jaeger's mouth turn up a little. "No. But... Wait. Can I come with you?"

Santana scrunches up her nose. "You're kidding, right?"

"No."

"You want to?"

"Uh-huh."

"You're not making this up?"

"Jesus, Santana," Quinn exclaims. "If the kid wants to come, let him. Just because you're a diehard atheist-"

"Oh, believe me, he is too."

"Children aren't anything, Santana. They're just children."

Santana sighs, trying to ignore the smug grin on her son's face. "Fine. Get in the car, Jaeger, you precocious little shit."

* * *

"I think we should sit in the back," Santana whispers as they walk in.

"Why?" Quinn whispers back.

"Because I keep having to pee and the bathroom's closer."

Quinn frowns at her. "Are you sure it's not because you don't want people to see you?"

"Why, because I care so much what they think about me?"

Quinn shrugs. Santana has a point, she has to admit.

"At any rate, it's you who should be concerned about what they think, not me."

"What are they gonna think? That I'm at church with a friend? What's wrong with that?"

"That you're at church with you atheist friend. And don't even pretend people don't know about that, they're such nosy fuckers here that-"

"Actually, I'm the one who started that rumor. Back in the day," she adds when Santana looks at her in disbelief.

"And how did you find out?"

"What? That you're an atheist? I didn't, I just figured."

Santana snorts.

"What? I was right, wasn't I?"

"So, really, half of your rumors are made up?"

Quinn rolls her eyes. "I don't do that anymore, Santana."

"No, now you do other stuff instead."

They share a look, but then remember Jaeger, who is trailing behind them and who has most certainly been listening to every single word of their conversation, and quickly tear their eyes from each other, Santana's cheeks pink. She tries to change the subject quickly.

"So, you won't be ashamed of being seen with an atheist, then?"

"No. I mean, if anything, this makes me look good. Like I managed to convert you, or something. Jaeger, too," she says, glancing back at the boy and grinning.

"Oh, so  _that's_  why you wanna sit in the front."

"No, but... well, I always sit in the front. But if you'd rather not..." her voice trails off.

"I just..." Santana rubs her stomach. "I wasn't kidding about the bathroom thing. Plus, Jaeger talks a lot, and I don't wanna disturb anyone..."

Quinn nods. "Yeah, that's fine," kind of wishing they didn't have to explain everything to each other all the time, because sometimes it seems like words just get in the way.

* * *

They kneel in a pew, just in time to hear the congregation murmuring something. As expected, Jaeger immediately perks up.

"What is that?"

"What's what?" Santana asks with a sigh. She knows she's going to have to do a bunch of explaining, but the truth is, she doesn't know a lot about this, and she dislikes things she doesn't know about.

"That thing they're all saying. What's it?"

Santana turns to Quinn, letting her take this one. Quinn whispers to Jaeger, glad the closest people are about three pews in front of them. "It's called the Lord's Prayer. It's... the main prayer of Christianity."

Jaeger tries listening again. "What does kingdom come mean?" he asks.

"Uhh..." Quinn stammers, trying to come up with an answer. It's not that she doesn't know, it's more that her kids were never this curious and she has a hard time with someone expecting her to know things, to provide information. Her children usually turn to Finn for this kind of stuff.

"It means that they're like... they're, like, asking God to come and make earth his kingdom."

"So it's like they're waiting for him?"

"Uh.. yeah. Kind of."

"They're waiting for the end of time, Jaeger." Santana whispers. "That's kind of what it means."

"The end of time? But time doesn't end."

Santana is about to say something, but Quinn interrupts. "Well, see, for Christians, time will end when Jesus comes."

"And what happens then?"

"Well, there will be peace, and love and happiness. Everything will be like it is in heaven. Because earth will be his kingdom."

Jaeger mulls this over. "So, it's like they're waiting for better times to come?"

"Yeah. I guess so."

Santana cuts in. "But, see when people use that phrase in real life, they mean something that won't happen for a very long time, like until the end of time."

"So, basically, when God comes, we'll all be dead."

"Well, yeah."

"Then what's the point?"

"The point of what?"

"Of believing and waiting and hoping for something that you are never going to see anyway because you'll be dead when it happens."

Santana shrugs. She really doesn't see the point, that's why she's not a believer, and if there is one, it's beyond her.

Quinn whispers. "I think the point is that time doesn't end when you die. That there are some things that last forever, that outlive you, that revive you."

"Revive you?"

"Yes."

"But nothing can revive you."

Quinn thinks about her life up until a few months ago and isn't so sure. Maybe that's what this is. Maybe before, church offered no comfort because she wasn't sure if anything preached within its walls was true. But now that she knows love, she knows without a doubt that if anything will remain of her when she's gone, this will be it.

She looks at Jaeger, wishing he was old enough to understand this. "Maybe it's not that something revives you. Maybe it's just that you never really die. That there are parts of you that will stay here, even if your body doesn't. So you aren't really completely dead."

"Things like what? Being a Christian?"

Quinn shakes her head. "No. It has nothing to do with that. I mean, I guess it's different for everyone."

Jaeger rolls his eyes. "You mean things like love?"

Quinn bites her lip. "Well, yeah."

"That's the cheesiest thing I've ever heard."

Quinn cringes. "I know."

But Santana is glancing at her from the other side of Jaeger. "No, it isn't. I could believe in that."

Jaeger turns to his mother accusingly. "You said this religion didn't make any sense."

Quinn frowns and Santana looks at her sheepishly as she talks. "It doesn't. But if you take away all that stuff that doesn't and leave what Quinn just said..."

"You'd believe in it."

Santana shrugs. "Maybe."

"So, you believe in love now?"

Santana frowns at her son. "Of course I believe in love. I've always believed in love. What ever gave you the idea that I didn't?"

"Uh, maybe that you and dad don't love each other."

She hears Quinn give a barely audible gasp. She kind of wants to ask her son why he would think that, but that would be insulting his intelligence. Of course it's obvious to him, and Santana was a fool, pretending that her and Sam's little charade would last this long.

"How long have you known?"

Jaeger shrugs. "Since I was, like, five." He pauses. "Or maybe since forever. I mean, you guys never really did, did you? That's why I never had any brothers or sisters?"

"Jaeger, that's a really personal question and we're going into dangerous territory here."

Jaeger makes a face, and Quinn half-wonders if she should get up and go, if this isn't really too private of a conversation for her to be listening to. She makes a move to get up, but Santana lays a hand on her arm discreetly.

Santana looks into her son's eyes. "Jaeger, I have you. I am so grateful to have you, every single day of my life. How could I not believe in love?" Her eyes flicker quietly to Quinn's face as she says this, but she quickly looks back at her son.

"I'm sorry I couldn't give you a loving family. Or any siblings. It's just... it wouldn't have been fair, you know?"

Jaeger nods. "I really wanted a brother. But it's cool."

Santana smiles. "To be honest with you, I'm not sure I'd have room in my heart for anyone that wasn't you."

Jaeger glances at Quinn, and she's afraid for a second, of this boy who wants to know everything, but she's slowly beginning to figure out he has a knack for saying the unexpected.

"Elliott wanted a brother, too."

Quinn raises her eyebrows in surprise. "Did he? He never said anything."

"Oh, Elliott never says anything."

"He does to you, apparently," Quinn says, trying to keep hurt off her face.

"He's like my brother," Jaeger explains plainly, and Quinn feels a warped sort of relief filling her veins.

The choir in the front starts singing, and to Santana and Jaeger, who are not familiar with the order of things, it seems like they just burst into song spontaneously. Quinn sings along, in a breathy, low, sweet voice that Santana loves but very seldom gets to hear, and she remembers how, yesterday, she was thinking about angels. Jaeger grabs her hand and squeezes, and she squeezes back.

Her son turns to Quinn. "So, what happens to the dead people when Jesus comes?"

"They rise from their graves."

Somehow, that doesn't sound as stupid as Jaeger thought.


	50. Chapter 50

Quinn knows her own melancholy like it's nothing new. Back and forth; it's been a part of her forever. She knows nothing, though, about what it is like for others, except maybe her son. Finn's nature is the very antithesis of melancholy, and, thankfully, it is not a trait her two daughters seem to have inherited.

Nothing prepares her for walking into Santana's house that day and finding Jaeger on the couch, his mother's head on his lap, and the kid holding a finger to his lips.

"Is she OK?" Quinn whispers.

Jaeger shrugs, and Quinn realizes it's a stupid question. How would he know? Though they tend to forget it, he's just a kid, and he shouldn't have to be dealing with this shit.

"Jaeger?" she asks.

"Yeah?"

"Are you done with your homework?"

"No."

"Go do it. I can take care of your mom."

Jaeger looks uncertain, even wary, and Quinn doesn't blame him. All his life, it's been him and his mother, and though he's never been in the position of caretaker before, he's not sure he trusts someone else to do it, much less someone as... volatile as Quinn.

He doesn't say any of this out loud, but Quinn knows perfectly well what he's thinking. She would be thinking the same thing.

"Jaeger?"

He turns his icy blue eyes on her.

"Remember when Elliott fell off that tree and you put mud on his knee?"

The kid nods.

"And remember how upset I got?"

As if he could forget. But instead of saying that, Jaeger just scoffs a little. "Yeah."

"Well, that day, I wasn't really upset because of what you did or anything. I was just afraid because I didn't know you and... I didn't trust you to take care of my son. But now I know I had no reason to be scared."

Jaeger purses his lips. He knows well enough what Quinn is trying to say. He lifts his mother's head from his lap gently and gets up. He doesn't say anything but shoots Quinn a warning glance, his first, last and only threat, and exits the room.

Quinn walks over to Santana and strokes her cheek. She's warm to the touch, and her eyes flicker open almost right away.

"Thank you," she says, in a hoarse voice.

Quinn jumps, startled. "You were awake?"

Santana nods.

"So you were pretending?"

Santana makes a face, defensive. "No. I was resting."

"Jaeger was worried. You could have said something."

"Believe me, Jaeger's the reason I was faking it."

"I thought you said you weren't."

Santana looks confused for a minute. "What?"

Quinn feels a cold dread washing over her as she looks at Santana. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me, Quinn."

"Bullshit."

As oddly as Santana's acting, maybe she can hear the fear and the anger in Quinn's voice, because she stretches out an arm and pulls her, with surprising strength, onto the couch until she's resting on top of her. Quinn runs her hands tenderly over her hair.

"Tell me what's wrong."

But Santana shuts her eyes. "Quinn, I'm just... I don't know. I'm sad."

Quinn smells the alcohol in her breath and immediately pulls away. "Have you been drinking?"

"No," Santana answers immediately.

"I'm not stupid, Santana."

"Fine. I had couple beers. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. I just... why? You hardly ever drink."

Santana shrugs. "Because Sam wasn't here to stop me, maybe. I don't know. It doesn't matter."

Quinn sighs. "Did Jaeger-?"

"No. I put everything away. That's why I was pretending to be asleep."

Quinn gets up and pulls Santana to her feet. "Come on. Let's get you to bed."

* * *

 

What she does, instead, is get her into the shower. Quinn stays outside and keeps her clothes on, not needing any distractions from the task at hand, though Santana naked in the shower is probably as distracting as it's going to get. But she's never had sex with a drunk person before, and she does not intend to start now.

"Quinn, come on," Santana says, trying to pull her into the shower by the shirt.

"No," Quinn says firmly, making sure the water is warm enough. "Later."

"Later when?"

"Later when you're sober."

"You promise?"

"Yeah," Quinn grumbles, struck by the fact that she's never had to take care of Finn, or of her children, even, because there was always Millie and her parents and a whole other set of circumstances that prevented her from ever having to take responsibility for anyone except herself. Maybe not even herself, she muses.

She's definitely not used to this, being the caretaker, but she has to admit there is something to drying Santana's hair and wrapping her up in her robe and putting her to bed. It's a sort of domesticity that for some reason never existed in her own home, or in her life, before this.

She's so used to being taken care of, but there is a power in caring, a reassurance, a validation, and she wonders if that's what Finn gets from it all. All this time she thought he'd worked without reward, but maybe this, in and of itself, is it's own reward. She gets into bed with Santana, thoughts lulling her to sleep like a warm, cozy blanket.

* * *

 

"Is now later?"

Quinn giggles as she tries to wrap her head around the concept. "Now is always later, Santana," she mumbles sleepily.

Santana laughs. "Are you the one that's drunk, now?"

Quinn opens her eyes and finds Santana looking down at her tenderly. "Thank you, Quinn."

"For what?"

"For last night."

Quinn smiles gently. "You remember."

"Yeah. I know. It's weird, huh?"

She rests her head on Quinn's bare stomach, and Quinn strokes her hair. "Are you still sad?"

Santana shrugs. "Kind of."

"Will you tell me why?"

"I figure I'll have to. Eventually. Soon."

"But not now?"

"Not now," Santana confirms. "We have other things to do right now."

She spreads Quinn's legs and bites her thigh. Quinn squeals. "I'm not food, you know."

Santana grins wickedly. "Aren't you?"

"If we were alone in a deserted island and I died and you had no food, would you eat me?"

Santana shakes her head. "I swear to god, Quinn."

"What?"

"Where do you come up with these things?"

Quinn smiles. "I'm serious. Answer the question."

Santana thinks it over. "Well, at any rate, I'm glad we're having this conversation now, in case it ever happens. Would you want me to eat you? I mean, logic indicates I should, if I wanted to stay alive, but.. if you said before you didn't want me to, I wouldn't."

Quinn considers this for a minute, then smiles placidly. "I give you permission to eat me."

"That's the most generous offer anyone's ever made me. Thank you."

* * *

 

Quinn doesn't know if she's imagining it, but she feels like Millie is starting to look at her weirdly whenever she shows up at the house, which, she has to admit, is not very often at all. It also doesn't help, that that morning, she shows up with her hair in a messy ponytail, no makeup, and rosy, happy cheeks. She can only imagine what Millie must think, though things are actually way worse than Millie probably thinks, and, why should Quinn even be worrying about this? Millie's just a maid, she tries telling herself, but feels a pang for even thinking that way, because she knows it's not true. It's not that Millie's a friend, exactly, or family, because you don't pay friends and family. But then again, you don't pay servants to care about you and your loved ones, and Millie certainly does that.

Still, it's like Quinn's guilt is reflected in her eyes somehow, and the implication that something is wrong only increases in Quinn's mind when Millie stops her on her way to the living room.

"Miss Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"Uh, Miss Kitty's in the living room. She's been waiting for you."

Quinn stops in her tracks, trying, at first, to pretend this doesn't matter. "Yeah, so?"

Millie shrugs a little. "I just... I thought you might want to change or something-"

"Why would I do that?" Quinn asks coldly, even though she's fully aware she should have showered after leaving Santana's.

"I.. I just..."

Quinn feels her irritation at Millie flaring. "Why didn't you stop her?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why didn't you tell her I wasn't here? Why did you let her come in?"

"I... I tried to but she.. I didn't want to be rude..."

"Did she ask you where I was?"

"Yes."

"What did you say?"

"I said I didn't know."

Quinn purses her lips and shakes her head, then makes her way into the living room, trying to keep her fury and fear under control.

"Morning, Kitty."

Kitty turns around and looks at her. "Quinn. You look awful."

Quinn glances at her reflection in one of their crystal windows. She's a mess, but she looks happy, or at least, she did up until a couple of minutes ago, before she walked through the doors of this house. Funny, how the place she calls home always has the power to make her unhappy.

She tries to smile as she sits down on the couch next to Kitty. "What's up?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to stop by and chat. Since you've been avoiding me and everything."

"I haven't been avoiding you," Quinn says automatically. And it's true. It's just that all that free time she used to have is being used up on Santana, now.

"Yes, you have. Ever since you made friends with that ghastly girl, Sam Evans' horrid wife-"

"She's not ghastly," Quinn mutters absentmindedly.

"That's not what you were saying a couple of months ago."

"I didn't know her a couple of months ago. I shouldn't have spoken that way about someone I didn't know."

"Since when do you care about that?"

"I don't. I'm just saying."

They both sigh, tired of this conversation already, when months ago, they could talk nonstop for hours. About other people, of course, but still, who cared? Gossiping about other people made them friends, and now, it's about to make them strangers.

"Where were you?" Kitty asks, finally.

"At my mother's," Quinn lies easily, making a mental note to never let her mother near Kitty again. She's weaving so many spiderwebs around herself that she doesn't know how she will ever get out if she one day decides she wants to try to. The thought is scary.

Kitty eyes her doubtfully, her eyes raking over her from head to toe. "Your hair looks so... flat."

Quinn reaches up to touch her head, sighs. "I know. I really to book a visit to the salon, huh?"

Part of her wonders how Santana can love her like this.

Kitty nods wisely. "Yeah. I'll book it for you, if you want."

They smile at each other and Quinn nods.

"You know, it's OK if you want to go with the bare-faced look and everything, just... don't neglect your hair. It's, like, the prettiest part of you."

Quinn laughs. "The prettiest part of me?"

"Yeah. It's what makes you Quinn. Just ask anybody. Ask Finn. He married you because of your hair."

Quinn is suddenly very tired of being Quinn.

* * *

 

"What the fuck?"

Quinn tries to feign nonchalance as she walks into the house. Willow moans and has a seat on the kitchen counter.

"Willow, off the counter please. We eat there. And watch your language."

Willow stays, probably just to annoy Quinn, or maybe to ram her point home.

"Why would you do this to me?"

"Excuse me?"

"It's like you can't let me have anything that's just my own-"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on, mom. The hair. The fucking hair? Seriously?"

"Willow, you do not have a monopoly on pixie hair cuts-"

"You're too old for this. It's not cool."

It stings, she can't deny it. "Believe it or not," she says coolly, "I wasn't even thinking about you when I-"

"What a surprise," Willow says, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You not thinking about me."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"That I've been watching your fucking children for practically a month so you can go cut your hair and act like a lovesick teenager? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Quinn feels her heart drop. She's angry now, at Willow, for thinking such things of her, and at herself, for giving her a reason to.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, you're cursing, now? Good. What do  _you_  think I'm talking about, mamma?"

They are treading on dangerous ground here, and they both know it.

"I have absolutely no idea."

"Then why are you getting so upset?"

"Because it sounds like... it sounds like you're trying to imply that I..."

She can't even bring herself to think of the words, much less say them, and Willow shakes her head, miraculously letting her off the hook.

"You know what? Spare me. I don't even wanna know."

"There is nothing to know."

"Yeah, whatever. That's not the point."

Quinn knows she shouldn't want to keep talking about this, but she does, if only so she can keep defending herself and drive these ideas from Willow's head once and for all. She's not sure she'd be capable of doing that, though, so she just sighs.

"What's the point, then?"

"That whatever it is you're doing has me stuck watching your children, and, as if that wasn't enough, now I have to watch children that aren't even yours."

Willow feels bad for saying this, she's actually kind of fond of Jaeger and the way he brings her brother out of his shell.

Quinn sighs. Something had told her this wasn't a good idea, but Santana had been acting strange again, and Quinn had taken it upon herself to bring Jaeger over to the house for the afternoon. It hadn't been easy convincing him, damn kid always seemed to know when something was up, but she'd managed to do it by telling him Elliott needed help with his homework. She didn't know if this was actually true, but then again, it probably wasn't a lie. Elliott was not the brightest of her children, he usually needed help with his work, and Quinn didn't think that day would be the exception.

"It's like I'm running a fucking day care, and you're one of the children I'm watching."

Yes, Willow has that incredible quality of being able to make her feel like an infant at any given moment, not something she's ever appreciated, but today, she doesn't feel like it's in her best interests to argue. Maybe it never is.

"Please, Willow."

"What?"

"Jaeger's mother is... indisposed."

"Indisposed? You mean sick?"

"Yeah. Something like that."

"Why don't you call her husband? Or a doctor or something?"

"I.. uh... it's... Willow, it's not that kind of sickness."

"Then what kind is it?"

"I... I don't know," Quinn confesses, and for the first time, she feels truly worried that she doesn't know what the hell is going on with Santana.

Willow frowns, but something seems to dawn on her face, and Quinn wonders if her daughter isn't actually a lot more like her than either of them thought. "She won't get out of bed?"  
Quinn nods. "I didn't want Jaeger to... to have to see her like that."

To her complete and utter surprise, Willow nods like she gets it. Sadly, the moment is short-lived as she glances out into the backyard, where they can see the children playing.

"Poor kid. Wish I could say I don't know what that's like."

"What?"

"Spending half your life with a mother who won't get out of bed."

It hits Quinn like a punch in the stomach. "Willow-"

"What, are you going to try to deny it?"

"I did the best I could," Quinn manages to say, though she's not sure that's completely true.

"Yeah, mom, I didn't give a fuck about your best. I was a kid. I just wanted a mother."

"Willow, no one teaches you how to be a parent, you'll understand when you have kids-"

"I know no one teaches you, but you made the choice to be a parent. Didn't you think about that when you decided to have me? It was your decision to bring me into this world, so you were responsible for-"

"I don't get why you're acting like the victim here, it's not like your brother and your sister-"

"Daisy and Elliott have me, mamma," Willow says fiercely. "They have me and they've always had me, even when they haven't had you. But I didn't have anyone. Daddy was always away-"

"Yeah, and I don't see you blaming him for that-"

"He did his part, which was keeping food on the table. The only person I had was Millie, and maybe grandma, think about that next time you wonder why I get along with her so well."

Quinn remembers now, with a pang, how she had asked Finn to hire Millie when it had become painfully clear that she would not be able to handle Willow on her own. She sighs.

"Willow, some children have mothers that hit them or mothers that abandon them. I was never that bad. You're overreacting-"

"Yeah, like, what about that one time when you didn't get out of bed for three months, mom? Would that not qualify as abandoning me?"

Quinn looks down at her hands. "You remember that?"

"Of course I remember, what the fuck do you think?"

"Willow, I..."

"You what?"

"I... something... something happened back then, that was bad. It wasn't that I didn't want to get out of bed, it was just... I couldn't."

Willow bites her lip, like she's remembering something. "I asked Daddy to tell me but.. he said I wasn't old enough." She looks up at her mother. "Am I old enough now?"

Quinn knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Willow's more than old enough, that she has been for a long time. However, she also knows that she's the one that's not ready, that she doesn't know if she will ever be ready to utter the words that scare her on a daily basis, even now, even today. So she just shakes her head, without looking at her daughter in the eye.

Willow looks at her with contempt, but says nothing. She just walks out of the room silently, the first time Quinn's ever known her to be without words.

* * *

 

Santana is in the kitchen, chopping some vegetables on the counter, when Quinn arrives. Santana turns around to look at her, and the first thing she does when she sees her is let out a huge, loud, thrilled laugh. "Oh my god."

Quinn tries to pretend she doesn't know what she's going on about, but somehow can't seem to wipe off the smug look from her face. Finally, smiles. "You like?"

Santana grins back. "I love it. You look like a real lesbian now."

Quinn frowns, not sure if she likes that or not, but Santana just laughs again and kisses her nose before going back to her vegetables. Quinn watches her and sees her hands shaking a little. She nudges her and once Santana moves, Quinn silently takes over.

When is a good time to say what you never wanted to say? Santana wonders. Then she guesses this is as good a time as any, and maybe that's why she was shaking so badly.

"I'm pregnant."

Quinn continues peeling potatoes, her belly pressed flat against the kitchen counter without a word, maybe hoping this is some kind of cruel, sick joke.

"Quinn, did you hear me?"

But she makes no move, no sound.

"Quinn..." Santana stands behind her and presses her chest to her back, wrapping her arms around her. She kisses her shoulder.

Quinn stiffens. "Don't."

"Quinn, turn around."

She does, arm crossed against her chest.

"Quinn, this was... right after we came back from Willow's camp. When you wouldn't talk to me. I... I haven't let him touch me since."

It seems like Quinn is never going to say anything ever again, but then she speaks very softly."What are you going to do?"

"What do you mean, what am I going do? What I was going to do the first time. Have an abortion. I don't want his kid."

"Oh, Santana. You can't."

"Why not?"

"You love Jaeger, don't you? Aren't you glad you didn't-"

"I'm glad. Not sure how glad he is. But these are completely different circumstances."

"But... you... Santana, it's wrong."

Santana traces the outline of Quinn's chin with her finger. "Oh, sweetheart. I was afraid you'd say that."

"Don't patronize me, Santana. What you're planning to do is murder."

Santana's gaze turns hard on her. "For the love of god, Quinn, explain to me why I should have to do something I don't want to do."

"Because it's the right thing to do. Because it's not the babies fault. Because in life we have to do lots of things we don't want to."

"You seem to be doing what you want, Quinn, even though it's wrong, and it's not Finn's fault, and you could choose otherwise."

"I tried, Santana, OK? But you wouldn't leave me alone."

"Oh, so now it's my fault? I made you do something you didn't want to?"

"I didn't wanna cheat on Finn."

"Well, news flash, you did."

"What does that even have to do with the fact that you want to get rid of-"

"Quinn, I'm sorry if I ever gave you the impression that this was something you had a say in. You don't."

Quinn steps away from the counter makes her way to the door.

"Just because I love you, or we love each other, or whatever, doesn't give you a right to decide... This isn't about you."

"Fuck you, Santana," Quinn says, slamming the front door shut behind her.

 


	51. Chapter 51

 

In a sense, this is like losing Elizabeth all over again. Even worse, Quinn feels like she's being asked to pick between Beth and Santana, and that's a choice she'd rather not make, a choice she'd rather curl up on the floor and die than make. She didn't mind so much, picking between Finn and Santana, at least not after the first initial months, but this, this is different.

How can she claim, keep claiming, that she loves her baby, while also loving someone who doesn't want the very thing Quinn would have given half her life to keep? Maybe she did lose half her life over it, except she didn't even get to keep Elizabeth, she just lost, lost so many things. Years of time, stolen from her other children, from her husband, from her own life, all because, as always, she couldn't react like a normal person. But how does a normal person react when they lose their kid? She refuses to believe that all of them are like Santana, who doesn't want hers. Quinn thinks back to that afternoon when she found her drunk and wonders if that wasn't some sort of feeble attempt at losing the damn kid. As if it was that easy. But then again, it had been that easy for Quinn.

She can feel herself sinking into this thing again. It's really kind of always around her, hovering over her head, but it gets worse when she thinks about Beth. Things get foggier, nastier, colder, somehow, and sadness starts seeping in, until it comes down crashing like someone put a pillow over her head and is holding it there. What used to be grief is now just sadness, but after dealing with so many years of it, Quinn thinks this might be worse. It makes her vision foggy, like she's sleepwalking through life. There is a newness, a rawness to grief that isn't here; this has no sharp edges, it's dull and all-encompassing, and more than anything, absolutely terrifying. She's never told anyone before, but she lives in fear of it returning, and that's how it's taken over her life. When she's not depressed, she's afraid depression will come back and sneak into her life again somehow, and it's like she doesn't have a minute's rest.

Ignoring Millie's weird looks, she grabs a blanket and curls up on the couch. She doesn't know how long she's there, only that she dozes in and out of sleep until she can hear Millie going home, and, minutes later, Willow bringing the children from school.

She hears her daughter opening the door, and her children's footsteps heading toward her, and then Willow's voice, exasperated, but, also, and she doesn't know if she's making this up, slightly afraid.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"she hears her mutter softly.

Elliott and Daisy are standing in front of Quinn, staring at her limp body like it's nothing they haven't seen before, but it's different this time, because they're getting old enough, at least Elliott is, to know that this isn't normal, that not all, not even most moms spend so much time with their faces buried in pillows and cushions.

Willow knows this, and lays a hand on her brother's shoulder.

"El? Do me a favor?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you please make the after-school snacks today?"

Elliott knows perfectly well he's being sent away, and he's glad for it. He doesn't want to be dealing with this stuff, not when his own heart is so fragile, and Willow knows well that is the sort of task that will allow him to hide it. Without being told, Elliott grabs Daisy by the hand and takes her with him.

Quinn knows she should be embarrassed of letting Willow see her like this, when it was only a few days ago they had that painful conversation about her uselessness, but she's so far gone she doesn't care. She blinks her eyes open a little and looks up at her daughter, and this time Willow's scared shitless because she sees something in her mother's eyes that she was too young to ever see before.

"Get up."

"Huh?" Quinn asks, incredulous that someone somewhere is asking her to do something when she's obviously so incapable of doing anything.

"I know there's something wrong with you, OK? We all get it. But you have to make an effort to not let your children see you like this."

Quinn remembers, somewhat vaguely, a similar scene, only then, it was Santana on the couch, and Santana's main concern, as always, was Jaeger. She feels a pang of guilt and struggles until she's on her feet, holding her blanket. She makes her way to her room, dragging it behind her like a little girl, Willow at her heels.

Willow locks the door behind them and watches Quinn get into bed.

"How in the world does Daddy put up with this?"

"Huh?"

"He literally has to do this all the time, doesn't he?"

Quinn shakes her head.

"And he's never once complained."

"Willow."

"What?"

"Stop."

"Stop what?"

"This whole you judging me thing. I'm sick of it. I know you don't exactly love me, but-"

"Why do you think I don't love you? I'm here, aren't I?"

"You're here because you have to be."

"I love you because I have to love you, yeah. But that still doesn't change the fact that I do. And besides, it's not like loving your parents is ever a choice. It's pretty much an obligation, not just for me, for everyone. Even you."

"You don't act like you love me," Quinn says softly.

Willow scoffs. "What does love act like, mamma?"

"Huh?"

"What does love act like? Does it act like you act with Daddy, or with me, or with Elliott? Sometimes I think the only one you love is Daisy."

"You know that's not true."

"I know. I know you love us, because you have to love us. See what I mean? Love is like this meaningless thing that boils more down to duty, to responsibility."

Quinn wants so desperately to tell her daughter that's not true, that she, at thirty-six years old, is finding out that love is so much more than she ever knew or imagined, like a crystal marble shining out in a million different directions. She tries to say it, and doesn't know how it comes out, because the smile on Willow's face is frightening; part indulging, part condescending. "You sound like a child, mother."

"And you like a bitter adult."

Willow shrugs, like this could not bother her any less, or at all. "The only things I know about love, I've learned from Daddy and you."

"You had good teachers, then."

Willow raises her eyebrows. "Did I?"

"Yes. Isn't that where you picked up all of this responsibility bullshit?"

"It's not bullshit, mamma. There's responsibility in love. I'm sorry you can't see that."

"No, there isn't. Why should there be? People make their own decisions, do their own thing-"

"Yes, but that's what it's all about. You let people make their own decisions, and then your responsibility is being there for them no matter what they decide."

Quinn feels tears start spilling hot from her eyes and into her warm pillow. Willow pats her head roughly, like she's trying to comfort her but has no idea how to do it.

Quinn sniffles. "Willow?"

"Yeah?"

"Did Ms. Jones really have an abortion?"

"Mamma, that was a stupid rumor. A rumor hat I'm pretty sure you had part in making up. How should I know?"

"Well, do you think she did?"

Willow shrugs. "No idea. Why?"

"Would it have made a difference to you? If she had?"

"No, mamma. You know I don't care about that shit."

"What shit?"

"All that religious bullshit-"

"I just think it's sad, someone not wanting their kid."

"Did you want all your kids, mom?"

Quinn sits up a little, shocked, like she never asked herself this before. "Of course I did."

"Even after you had us? Every second of every day, you wanted us?"

"Willow, that's impossible, and you know it."

Willow shrugs. "I don't think anyone is ever one hundred percent happy with either choice, so what difference does it make?" She pauses. "Are you pregnant?"

"No."

"Do you wish you were?"

"No," and Quinn is surprised by the truthfulness to this answer.

"What would you do if you were?"

"Have it."

"But you wouldn't want it."

"No." Quinn plops her head back down into her pillow. "Can you love someone even when they're doing something wrong?"

Willow smiles a little. "I don't know. Can you?" She opens Quinn's bedside drawer, trying to get some tissues to wipe her mother's face. Her hand feels around until she pulls something out.

"What is this?"

Quinn stares at Santana's ring on Willow's hand. The realization hits her then, that she will never be able to wear it.

Her daughter holds it up to the light. "It's beautiful."

Quinn sighs. "It is, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Where did you get it?"

"It was Santana's. She didn't want it, so she gave it to me."

"Why didn't she want it?"

"It's a long story."

Willow turns it over in her hands. "You never wear it."

"No."

"Why?"

Quinn shrugs, and thinks of the perfect way to avoid the question altogether. "You want it? It's yours."

Willow looks at her incredulously. "But.. mom... you can't..."

"Yes. I can. I was never going to wear it anyway."

* * *

 

"Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you sick?"

Quinn hazily wonders how Elliott managed to sneak past Willow's severe vigilance and her determination not to let her siblings see their mother like this. She rubs her eyes with the heels of her hands. "What time is it? Where's your sister?"

"It's one. And she's asleep."

Quinn smiles a little. "You had to wait until now to come talk to me, huh?"

Elliott shrugs. "She would have probably let me see you if I asked."

"Then why didn't you?"

"I don't know. She was going to ask why I wanted to, and I don't really have a reason."

"You don't need a reason to talk to me, Elliott. I'm your mother."

"I know, but... I think Willow thinks we're gonna disturb you or something."

Quinn shakes her head. "It's not me she cares about. She's more concerned about me being bad for you than the other way around. She just... doesn't want you to worry about me."

Elliott looks surprised, as if this thought had never occurred to him before. "But.. are you really that sick?"

"No, Elliott. You want to know a secret?"

He nods.

"I'm not sure if I'm really sick."

"Then?"

"I... I don't know what's wrong with me."

It would be extremely difficult to say that to an adult, but Quinn finds it easy and somewhat of a relief telling Elliott, because he accepts this answer as readily as he would have any other. Not knowing shit is fine when you're a kid, and not so much when you're an adult. To her son it makes sense that she doesn't have all the answers; he doesn't expect her to.

"Is Jaeger's mom sick, too?" he asks after a pause.

"Uh, I don't know. Why do you ask?"

"Because Jaeger said he wasn't coming to school for a few days. He's staying over at his grandmother's."

"He is?" Quinn asks, startled. Santana would never, ever send her son to Sam's mom's voluntarily, and Quinn feels a pang of unhappiness, thinking that the only reason she must have done so is that she has nobody else to turn to.

"Did he say when...?"

"His mom's dropping him off today. He thinks she's got cancer or something."

"She doesn't have cancer," Quinn says automatically, wondering at how someone as sensible as Jaeger could come up with such a dramatic theory.

"Then what's wrong with her? Why is she sending him away?"

Quinn has a hard time believing Santana did not explain this to Jaeger, and she tells Elliott so.

"She told him she had personal stuff to take care of and she said that Jaeger should understand that. And she told him not to worry."

"Of course she did," Quinn says, rolling her eyes. "She expects too much from that poor child sometimes."

He is, after all, still a kid, Quinn reasons. Kids don't understand such notions as personal issues, much less being told not to worry. Hell, not even adults understand that. "Just... when you see him, tell Jaeger his mom's gonna be fine, OK?"

Elliott looks at Quinn doubtfully.

"Tell him... tell him I'll keep an eye out for her."

Elliott's eyes brighten a little. "You will? Are you gonna go to her house?"

Quinn sighs. "Do you think I should?"

Elliott nods solemnly.

"Fine."

Her son grins. "Awesome. Can I call Jaeger and tell him?"

"Maybe in the morning?"

"OK."

Her son hugs her, and Quinn wonders at this little boy and his innocence, thinking that his mother would be a good caretaker, thinking that she's actually capable of caring for someone when, look at her, just a few minutes ago she was sprawled on the bed like she was never going to be able to move again. She's re energized by his faith in her, and hugs him back.

"Now go back to bed, baby."

"You promise you're gonna-"

"Yes. I promise."

* * *

 

She knows she has to make her way to Santana's house now, but she can't help but stop by Daisy's room on her way out.

Her youngest still sleeps on a crib, and Quinn's not sure if it's because she hasn't outgrown it yet, or because it's her that's actually reluctant to move her out of there. It's like seeing her grow too fast, like hurrying along the moment when her last kid will no longer be a baby and she will have to face the cold, harsh truth that there will be no more babies for her once Daisy grows up.

She brushes the wispy hairs off Daisy's forehead, and wonders if it's true, what Willow said, about loving her better. True, Daisy's much less work than either of her siblings, even though she's the youngest. There are no dark, hidden corners to Daisy; Quinn isn't afraid or uneasy about her the way she is with her other two.

Sometimes, she tries to pretend that Daisy is Beth, but the truth is, she always knows better. Daisy doesn't look a thing like she knows Beth would have, she doesn't have her eyes, and she's mostly all Finn and maybe that's why Quinn loves her so anyway, because of all her kids, she's the one that's least like her. She's her father, both in looks and in personality, and the biggest relief to Quinn's heart.

What would she have done with a child like Beth anyway? She doesn't need another carbon copy of herself, another reminder of her failures, and, would a child with her sunlight eyes have been anything but that?

* * *

 

Just as Quinn's trying to get the front door open, she hears a ragged scream from inside. She drops everything she's holding and runs inside. Santana is on the bed, laying on her side. She is asleep, but she's clutching her stomach. The white sheets on the bed are stained with blood and her cell phone is on the floor. With trembling fingers, Quinn scrolls down her contacts until she finds the last dialed number; a Dr. Cohen's number. She picks up on the first ring.

"Dr. Cohen?"

"Yes, Santana?"

"Umm, no, this is her... friend Quinn-"

"How may I help you?"

"I... I just got here and Santana's, she's asleep, but she's yelling, and there's blood on the bed and-"

"Is there a lot of blood?"

"Excuse me?"

"The blood, is it a lot?"

Quinn looks at the spreading stain on the bed. "I... I don't know."

"Do the sheets look like they're soaking?"

"I... no. I guess not."

"Then it's all right. She's going to bleed, but unless there are copious amounts, everything's normal."

Quinn sighs with relief. "Should I wake her up?"

"No point in it."

Quinn lays down on the bed facing Santana. She feels the blood beginning to soak her pants, but she doesn't care. She takes Santana's hands in hers and shuts her eyes. Santana, still asleep, intertwines their fingers together.

* * *

 

Santana wakes up to the smell of pancakes. It turns her stomach, and she scrambles off the bed quickly, trying to tear the bloody sheets off the mattress. As soon as her feet touch the floor, her legs give out from under her. She wants to scream but grinds her teeth instead, and, as she's trying to pull herself up, a pair of hands wrap around her waist, trying to help her. Not Sam's, but the soft, nimblest hands that really don't do anything but lift up her spirits. She looks up at Quinn in disbelief.

"What are you doing here?"

Quinn shrugs.

"How long have you been here?"

Something flickers across Quinn's face as she answers. "I just got here."

Santana looks down at the shirt she's wearing, one of Quinn's, with a happy, white lamb smiling up at her. "Why am I wearing this?"

"You threw up."

"Ugh, that's disgusting."

"Well, look at the bright side. At least you didn't have to clean it up."

Santana shakes her head with as much dignity as she can muster. "You shouldn't be here."

"It's too late for that."

"I... I thought you were Sam."

Quinn smiles. "I made pancakes. Do you want some?"

Santana doesn't have the heart to say no. Quinn pushes her back on the bed. "Wait here. I'll get them."

Santana lays her head back down just as her cell phone begins ringing. Dr. Cohen.

"Hello?"

"Morning, Santana. How are you doing?"

"I... fine, I guess."

"Were you in a lot of pain?"

"I think so. I can't really remember."

"Your friend sounded worried."

"What friend?"

"Quinn? She called last night."

Santana tiptoes to the bathroom and finds a pile of bloody clothes, hers and Quinn's, inside the bathtub. Putting one foot in front of the other, she makes her way to the kitchen. Quinn frowns when she sees her. "I thought you were gonna wait for me."

"I don't wanna eat in there, it's depressing."

Quinn nods and sets a plate on the kitchen counter. Santana grabs a stool and sits down across from her. "So."

Quinn looks down at her fingers and speaks with difficulty."Is it... gone?"

"What?"

"The baby."

Santana nods. "Yeah. I guess it's gone."

She wants to grab Quinn's hand across the counter, but she doesn't know if she can, and it's Quinn's hand, crawling across the counter, that grabs hers, even though she can't look her in the eye, not yet.

"I'm sorry this is hurting you."

"It's hurting me more that it's hurting you, apparently."

"I endured my good share of pain last night, Quinn."

"I know."

"Why did you come?"

"I couldn't leave you alone."

They spend the rest of the day in bed together, not doing anything but staring at each other, and Santana wonders when the newness of this will wear off. She hopes it never will, but she's not stupid enough to believe that, not stupid enough to believe that what just happened will change nothing between them. She traces the outline of something on Quinn's jutting hipbone with her finger, and Quinn smiles.

"Are you drawing on me?"

Santana smiles back. "Yeah. I guess."

"What are you drawing?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. What do you want me to draw?"

Quinn thinks about it. "Ummm... a butterfly."

Santana gets ready to trace with her finger again, but Quinn grabs a marker from somewhere and hands it to her. Santana raises her eyebrows.

"For real?"

Quinn shrugs. "Yeah. Why not?"

"Remember when you freaked out about-"

"Yes, Santana. I remember."

 


	52. Chapter 52

"Whoa."

Quinn opens her eyes, sits up in shock.

"Finn?"

She knew he was coming back today, which is why she'd gone to bed early, but once there, had found herself, as usual, unable to sleep. She had grown so used to being tucked into Santana's side that she had curled up as best she could, and when she figured out she wasn't going to be able to sleep, had decided to fantsize about her instead. Her husband's voice is a harsh wake-up call from her daydreams, but she still braves a smile.

Finn flinches. "Did I wake you up? Sorry. It's just... your hair."

"Huh?" Quinn says, not aware of what he's talking about until she reaches up to her head and touches her newly shorn hair. She's grown so used to it that she'd forgotten it was ever not like this, and she'd also forgotten that her husband didn't know about it. She'd neglected telling him, precisely because he had been so fond of her long hair. She didn't care, not exactly. How could she, when Santana liked it so much?

She kind of wants to ask if he likes it, but it would be pointless because she knows he doesn't, and she's not going to force him to lie, not when she's already lying enough for the both of them. So she just shoots him a half-smile, and he can't help but smile back, though something in his expression causes him to look slightly pained. But maybe it's just her guilty conscience, imagining things. She scoots over to the side of the bed, making room for him. It's late, he's probably tired and wants to go to sleep. He joins her under the covers, grateful, and searches for the remote, groping under the bed.

No sooner has he turned the TV on that he's asleep already, and Quinn reaches for the control to turn the TV off again. She closes her eyes, but as soon as it seems like she's managed to doze off, something like an alarm goes off in her brain, making her jump and waking her. It happens three times, and before it can happen for the fourth, she decides she'd just rather stay awake, because this feeling is filling her with dread.

It is the first time she's in bed with Finn that she is not able to sleep. He, who used to be her shield against anything and everything, is now the thing that won't let her sleep, as if he was a strange, frightening presence next to her. Maybe he is.

And just like that, Quinn knows it's over between them, that this thing never was, and never will be again.

He can feel her rolling on the bed, moving around like she just found out something deeply disturbing. For Quinn, this is much worse than any nightmare, the idea that the relationship that defined her, that made her who she was for the past twenty years is no more, and she doesn't know who she is without it. She almost starts hyperventilating right then and there, until Finn rolls over and places a gentle hand on her rapidly-rising stomach.

"You OK?"

She tries to regain control of her voice. "Yeah. I'm good."

Finn nods like he knows she's lying, but doesn't want to push her or say anything about it, and Quinn wonders if he can tell all of her lies so easily.

He plays with the hem of her t-shirt, tracing his finger over her hips and her belly, until her t-shirt rides up, revealing the fading butterfly Santana had drawn there days ago, and which Quinn had also completely forgotten about.

Finn looks at it oddly. "What's this?"

She sits up quickly. "I... uh... a butterfly. It's a butterfly."

He laughs, but without his usual mirth. "I know it's a butterfly, Quinn. I'm not blind."

"I never said that."

He looks over at her, as if he, too, is realizing a couple of things for the first time. "You don't think I'm very smart, do you?"

 _In comparison to what?_ she wants to ask. She never before thought her husband was stupid. And yet here she is, treating him like he's not only stupid, but also blind. Blind to the fact that she's cheating on him, yeah, but, more importantly, blind to the fact that she no longer loves him, which is something that probably anyone, no matter how dumb, should be able to realize.

He's obviously not as smart as Santana, he struggled his way to college at best, and Quinn realizes with a pang that the admiration she feels for her is completely absent from what she feels for Finn. She never noticed he was so lacking in that department, it's not like she ever considered herself too intelligent either, but Santana makes her curious about life and very aware of how much she doesn't know, while, with Finn, she's settled into a comfortable ignorance.

She lays a hand on her husbands arm. "Of course I think you're smart, Finn," she says. It's technically not a lie; it was what she had thought until the moment he asked it. It was something she'd never stopped to consider before.

He shakes his head like he's disappointed, whether in himself or her, who knows."Who drew it on you?"

"Elliott," Quinn says. She's stalled this conversation long enough to be able to come up with a lie. How easily they come to her nowadays, like someone is whispering them into her ear, feeding her the lines she knows she's supposed to deliver.

Finn raises his eyebrows as he examines the butterfly more carefully, running a finger over it. "He's getting really good." Then he pauses. "I thought you were against that whole thing."

"What whole thing?"

"The people drawing on your skin thing."

Quinn shrugs. "Changed my mind."

"You seem to be changing your mind on a lot of things, lately."

"No, I haven't," she says automatically.

Finn smiles a little. "You're not even going to ask me what things?"

"No, because I haven't changed my mind about anything."

"What about your hair?"

"What about it?"

"You never said you liked short hair."

"I never said I didn't."

"I'm pretty sure-"

"I'm pretty sure it was just you who did."

"And you decided to do it even though you knew I wouldn't like it?"

"It's my fucking hair, Finn," she snaps, irritated.

"Oh, and that, too."

"What?"

"The cursing."

Quinn rolls her eyes and immediately regrets it when her mind conjures up an image of Willow doing the exact same thing. She is spared from having to say anything by Finn's alarm clock ringing. It's morning already. She doesn't know how this sleepless night rolled by so quickly. She gets up, and Finn looks up at her questioningly.

"Aren't you coming back to bed?"

"No."

"How come?"

"Brunch at my mother's, remember? Get up."

Finn looks at her levelly. "I don't think I'm coming."

"What?"

"You heard me, Quinn. I'm not going."

"Is this because of my hair?"

"No, Quinn. Do you seriously think I'm that childish?"

"No, but..."

"I just think it'd be better if we spent some time apart-"

"Finn, you just came back," Quinn says rather desperately, not completely comfortable with the idea of going to her mother's alone. "I'm sorry if I upset you, I didn't mean to, I-"

He sighs. "It's fine, Quinn. It's not you, OK?" he says, even though it is her. "I just... I'm tired, OK? Can I please stay home? Without having to worry about you being mad?"

Quinn spins on her heel. "Fine, Finn. Do whatever you want."

* * *

 

Funnily enough, the kids don't ask any questions about why Finn is not coming along. She doesn't find out until later that he promised they would all go ice skating with the rest of the football team that afternoon, just to appease them.

Quinn knows she should be worried about the impending state of her marriage, but the truth is, she misses Santana so much it's making her skin crawl. She feels lost and disoriented, and somewhat giddy at the thought that she will most likely be there this afternoon. She used to dread those situations; them having to see each other in public, but now, she'll take whatever she can get.

She is sitting on the kitchen table, watching her mother mixing assorted ingredients into bowl without really watching; her thoughts are elsewhere, where they usually are, nowadays. Willow joins her grandmother at the table after washing her hands, ready to help her, when Judy suddenly gasps, holding on to her granddaughter's thin wrist.

"What is that?"

"It's a ring."

"I see that." Judy examines it carefully. "But... it's the Avner ring, isn't it?"

Quinn frowns. "You've seen it before, mamma?"

Judy nods. "Once. When I was a little girl, on the hand of a young woman named Rose Katherine, when she married William Avner. "

 _Santana's grandparents,_  Quinn thinks. She's heard the names in passing, but it is quickly becoming evident how little she knows about this. If you had told her before, that you could love someone so much and barely know anything about them, she wouldn't have believed it. And yet here she is.

"Wait, so... the Avners were from the South?"

Her mother nods. "But then their daughter married someone... from up north," Judy says, scrunching up her nose in distaste.

"The ring was passed down their family for generations. But..," she turns to Willow. "How did you come to have it? Wait, don't tell me..." She looks at Willow, open mouthed. "Are you... but he's too old for you. Though I guess that doesn't really matter. But... wasn't he supposed to be insane or something?"

Willow looks terribly confused. "Who?"

"The last of the Avners. I can't remember his name. John? James?"

Willow looks at her just as blankly. "I don't know what you're talking about. Mom gave me this ring. It was Santana's."

"Santana's?"

"Yeah. She's an Avner, didn't you know?"

Willow's phone starts ringing, and she excuses herself from the table to go take the call in the living room. Quinn gets up, takes Willow's place at the table and starts breaking some eggs open over another bowl. Mother and daughter work in silence, but a thought nags on the back of Quinn's mind.

"Mamma, what was it you said about a James?"

"I thought the last of the Avners was named James. I didn't know Santana was one. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I introduced you to her during New Year's-"

"Yeah, and you forgot to mention her last name."

"Her last name is Lopez."

Judy rolls her eyes. "Don't tell me. She doesn't like the Avner? How original." She shakes her head. "Still, you could have said something."

"I didn't think it was important." Quinn thinks back to what Judy said earlier. "What did you mean when you said the last?"

"Huh?"

"You said James was the last Avner."

"Yeah, the rest are all dead. Except for your friend, I guess." Her mother pauses, and Quinn can almost see this coming. "But, now, Quinn, I want to know one thing."

Quinn stares at her mother, hoping she's not giving anything away.

"How did you come to have such a valuable ring?"

"Because Santana didn't want it, obviously."

"Quinn, nobody gets something like that without giving something very big in return."

Quinn doesn't know what to say, so she doesn't, and instead bites her lip, keeping her eyes trained on her mother.

"And, pray, tell me, where is Finn tonight?"

"He wasn't feeling well."

Judy returns to her mixing, but there is something dangerous in her tone of voice.

"Be careful, Quinn."

Quinn can't help herself. "I thought you would be thrilled, mamma. To have the Avner ring in your family."

"Under certain circumstances, perhaps. But I think that is not the way in which it came into this house."

"So if I told you I got it from the insane Avner, you wouldn't mind?"

"I'd be willing to make an exception."

"Even if I was leaving Finn?"

"I'm sure he would recover."

"You'd have me marry a crazy person?"

"You're not a child anymore, Quinn. I think you can handle a little excitement."

"That's exactly what I'm handling, mamma," Quinn snaps angrily before exiting the kitchen.

* * *

 

Quinn can hear Santana cheering on Jaeger as soon as they walk into the rink. It almost makes her break into a smile. Of course Jaeger would be good at this, too, and of course Santana can't help herself, and apparently Sam can't either.

They all walk in single file behind Finn, who has a seat next to Sam, as Quinn knew he would. She plops down on the seat next to Santana and they smile at each other.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"How you been?"

Quinn shrugs.  _Missing you_ , she wants to say. But she's sure, by the look in Santana's eye, that she knows, and that she feels the same. It's this thing, electric, that never seems to go away when they're together, and they can feel it even when they're not touching, especially when they're not touching.

Quinn wonders if this will last forever, if she will forever continue to feel electrified when Santana is in close proximity. She wonders if Santana will always be close to her so she will find out and hopes with all her heart she will.

Quinn watches as Finn escorts the kids into the rink. It is Elliott's and Daisy's first time, and he joins them, Finn incredibly graceful for a man so large and Elliott scared and Daisy looking like she's ready to go off spinning into the ice.

Sam excuses himself and leaves the two of them alone as he, too, joins his kid. He checks his watch and glances over at Santana. "Switch in twenty?"  
She nods. No way she would want to miss going on the ice with her kid.

They're painfully aware they're alone now, both they're both silent, as if afraid to say anything and break this thing, or fearing that maybe it will break them.

Santana's hand brushes along Quinn's slightly, and Quinn knows it's stupid, but she bursts out laughing. Santana grins, too. "God, I fucking miss you," she says lowly.

Quinn nods vigorously. "Me, too. I feel so weird without you, like I'm not even me, you know?"

"I know." She moves her hand away from where it was touching Quinn's and Quinn sighs. "Don't."

"What?"

"I wanna keep touching you."

"Quinn-"

"You don't want to?"

Santana looks at her incredulously. "You really think I don't want to? You don't know how much willpower it's taking to not just haul you into the nearest dark corner and-"

"Do it, then."

"You're not serious."

Quinn doesn't know if she is, so she just shrugs.

"Quinn, I-"

"Can't we work it out, somehow? Go away to a hotel or something? Just for one night?"

Santana shakes her head. "I don't think we need to be giving our kids any more chances to comment on the fact that we haven't been home for the past weeks."

"But it's gonna be so long until they go away again and-"

Santana nods and almost grabs Quinn hand, imagining lacing her fingers through hers, but stops herself. "Look, I.. I don't think we should but... maybe we can figure something out..."

"I mean, they do have practice pretty much all day tomorrow," Quinn says, a grin beginning to sneak into her face. Santana looks away, otherwise she knows she'll start grinning, too.

"Come to the house," Quinn says, eyes on hers. Santana nods, but she's already looking at Sam, who is coming back from the rink and gesturing for her to get her skates on. She does.

"I have to go," she says quickly, and joins Jaeger on the ice.

* * *

 

Finn is having fun, skating backwards and pretending he's a hockey champ, trying to catch his wife's attention, until he runs into Santana. She knocks him down without meaning to, and he's shocked that someone so much smaller than him is actually capable of doing that. Santana grins at him good-naturedly and helps him up.

"Sorry. Don't know my own strength."

Finn shakes his head. "Nah. I wasn't watching where I was going."

"You were too busy looking at Quinn," Santana says, matter-of-factly. She didn't miss it, just like she didn't miss Quinn never looking up from her phone, even once, which she's sure is her way of avoiding her husband. Now, though, almost as if she could sense they're talking about her, she looks up. Finn waves and she smiles back, a little startled. Santana doesn't know if she should wave or not, so she just sort of lifts her hand in an awkward position.

Quinn makes a face and looks down at her phone again, and Finn sighs a little. He glances at Santana. "I'm guessing Sam didn't have to bribe you to get on the ice, huh?"

Santana shakes her head. "I like skating."

"You're very good."

"Thanks. I used to play hockey in high school."

Finn shakes his head in wonder. "I don't even know why I'm surprised. I bet you were one of those girls who was on every sports team, weren't you?"

Santana tries to not be bothered by his generalization, or by the fact that he's right. "A couple. Track and field. Basketball. Etcetera."

Finn nods, glances at Quinn.

"I don't think she'd say no if you offered to teach her, you know."

She doesn't actually know if Quinn knows how to skate. Yet another thing about her she doesn't know. So many things about Quinn she doesn't know. Can she love someone she knows nothing about? She doesn't know Quinn's asked herself the same thing many, many times.

Finn shrugs. "She seems to be saying no to a lot of things lately."

 _Not to me_ , Santana thinks, but keeps that thought in check. She doesn't know what to say to Finn, but she doesn't need to say anything, because he keeps going.

"She used to like doing things. Before, you know? She was happy, not all the time, but at least some of it. She tried, she wanted to do stuff, she liked playing with the kids, and then she lost the baby and-"

"What?"

"The baby," he says, looking at her cluelessly. Then he brings a hand to his mouth. "She... shit. She hasn't...? I thought she would've told you by now."

Santana looks so horrified that she makes Finn feel like he has to keep on talking. "We were going to name her Beth... it was... Quinn always wanted to have a lot of kids, you know? Since she was an only child. She wanted at least four and... it took us a while, with Beth, to get pregnant, but... And then after, she didn't want anymore children, she was too scared to..."

He trails off and Santana glances at Quinn, who is in the stands, still fiddling with her phone. "I'm so sorry," she says, without looking at Finn.

And somewhere, in her heart, she unbelievably is.

* * *

 

Santana shows up at Quinn's the next day, and she'd be lying if she said her heart wasn't unusually heavy. She finds the door unlocked and shows herself in.

"Quinn?" she asks tentatively.

"In my room," she yells. "Come in. I sent Millie on three hundred errands, she won't be back for hours."

Santana smiles in spite of herself and makes her way there, putting one foot in front of the other, dreading this whole thing as much as she's looking forward to it.

"Quinn, baby, we have to talk."

But just as soon as she crosses the threshold of their bedroom, booming music goes off.

"What the fuck?" she yelps.

"Oh, hush." She can hear Quinn giggling but can't see her, and upon listening to the song that's playing, Santana frowns. "Is that Justin Bieber?"

She wants to laugh, but then Quinn comes out of nowhere, wearing nothing but the tightest gray boy shorts and a white, navel-baring tank top.

"Quinn," she says, feeling lightheaded and unbelievably happy. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

"Nope," Quinn says, grabbing her hand and pulling her into her gigantic, 360 degree mirrored walk-in closet. "Not at all."

Santana can hear, somewhere in the back of her mind, the lyrics to the song.

_As long as you love me..._

_Forever_ , she thinks. She finds herself pressed up against a wall, Quinn dancing for her like someone taught her to strip professionally. Santana doesn't know why, but she's pretty sure Quinn's never done this for anyone else before. She has never been this, this version of Quinn, this woman of blood and sun, for anyone else but her.

For Quinn, ever since she met Santana, it's almost like she can feel music, drumming inside her skin. Even when she goes to sleep, she dreams of it all night long, a party in her head, her feet moving of their own accord. She strips slowly, even grabs one of Finn's caps from the closet, puts in on backwards on her head. It's sexy as fuck, but it makes Santana feel uneasy, too.

Quinn has, all along, felt like this is a dangerous game, but Santana, feels it, understands it, for the first time that day. The notion of betrayal is new to her; she's never had anyone's trust to betray. But when she sees Quinn wearing Finn's cap, she feels an uncomfortable twinge somewhere in her body. She remembers the last time she saw Finn wearing it, and suddenly, he's Finn, a person and not just the obstacle to their happiness.

And yet she's completely unwilling to put a stop to this, now or ever. Quinn comes close, and when Santana's about to touch her, inches far away. She's like a vision, only Santana knows she isn't because Quinn keeps running her hands over her, as if only she was allowed to touch. She cups her face in her hands and Santana can feel one of her earrings falling softly onto the carpet. She ignores it. She doesn't give a fuck.

She thinks she hears a door creak open but ignores that too. Instead, she lays her hands on Quinn's waist lightly, and this time, Quinn lets her. The mark of the butterfly she drew days ago is very faint but still there, and without thinking about it, Santana places a kiss on it, then a bite.

Quinn giggles and pulls away, and Santana thinks all is right with the world until she stands up again. In one of the mirrors, she can see Finn's wide brown eyes, meeting hers from the other side of the room.

 


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two more chapters left! Thank you to those of you that have stuck around since the beginning.

The world stops until then. The world's stopped a lot of times before that, for both of them, alone and together. In bad times, in good times, but Quinn thinks this is the one time that counts, the one that will define the rest of their days forever. Even so, it is a day that, later, they will have both blocked from memory, a day they will never talk about. Quinn will cringe whenever something in her memory strains to remember, struggling against it like a drowning woman.

Santana feels incredibly lightheaded upon walking out of there, like each step is taking her in an unknown and uncertain direction. Meanwhile, the only coherent thought Quinn can form is a mild gratitude somewhere in her brain, for the fact that they're still dressed, though just barely.

She makes her way to the bed with difficulty, pretty sure she's about to faint. Finn is watching her, making no effort to help, when, just a few hours earlier, he would have been running to her side.

She manages to sit down, and, after a beat, he has a seat next to her. She's looking down at her feet, but he puts a hand on her chin. He tilts her face up until she has no choice but to look into his eyes, and see the red splotched there. It makes her think of blood, and it becomes more real, more evident, more visible, that she's hurt Finn. She doesn't know if he wanted her to see that, if that's why he 's doing this, or if he's the one trying to find something in her eyes. Proof, that she's the scum she feels like, or proof that she's no longer the Quinn he knew, or proof that maybe a part of that Quinn is still lurking around somewhere, swimming in the pools of her eyes.

She doesn't know what he finds, maybe she never will, because in an instant, he's on his feet and running out, and Quinn waits a couple of seconds before she follows him out, slow on her feet and silent. She watches him walk out through the front door and knows she cannot follow beyond that. The whole town is Finn's territory; she will only be safe as long as she remains within these four walls.

She hears footsteps behind her and jumps.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Quinn, I tried to stop him and-"

It's not until she turns around that Quinn realizes it's Millie speaking, and it seems like it takes a couple of second for the words coming out of her mouth to register in Quinn's brain.

"What?"

"I didn't know what to say, I... I came back because I forgot my wallet and he was here and-"

Quinn clenches her fists, digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Millie?"

Millie would be shocked by the unusual force with which Quinn delivers these words, if she wasn't too busy stumbling over her own to notice.

"It's my fault, I should have-"

"Millie, I don't know what you think just happened-"

Millie straightens up, looks her in the eye. "Miss Santana was in the room with you."

"Yeah, so?"

"And you and her-"

"Her and I what, Millie?"

Maybe Millie cannot detect the dangerous tone to Quinn's voice, or maybe she can, and decides to go on anyway. All Quinn knows is that the supremely pious expression on her maid's face makes her sick to her stomach.

Millie's eyes are soft on her, full of pity. "I'm not here to judge you, Miss Quinn. Whatever you and Miss Santana-"

"I don't know who told you or what they told you, Millie, but I don't like where this is going."

Millie lays a gentle hand on Quinn's arm. "I've been working for you forever, Miss Quinn. I don't need to be told."

Somehow, this strikes Quinn as a blow almost as powerful as that of being caught by Finn. So now, someone else knows, and without even being told. Have they really been so sickeningly obvious all this time? How the fuck could Millie know and Finn not know? How-

"I'm not going to tell anybody, I-"

That is the last straw, and Quinn snaps. "Of course you are not going to tell anybody, because there is nothing to tell."

"It's OK, Miss Quinn, you can trust me-"

"Get out," Quinn says flatly.

Millie stares at her, wide-eyed.

"Did you not hear me? I said get out. Pick up your shit and go. I don't want to see you again."

"But, Miss Quinn-"

"I've heard enough, Millie. I can't believe you, snooping on me like that. And you better make sure not to go around spreading these false rumors, because I will make sure you find yourself out of a job-"

"Miss Quinn, I would never-"

"You would never what? Apparently it's not enough that you meddle into my private affairs, now you also have the nerve to make up these... these stories about me?"

It is in that moment that Millie seems to realize how useless arguing with Quinn is going to be. She has known her for years, under every and any circumstance and arguably more and better than anyone, and she knows she will never go back on her word.

The children are in school, and Millie's eyes fill with tears at the thought that she will not get to say goodbye to them; she knows better than to even ask. Quinn seems only slightly mollified by Millie's sadness. She holds her head high and proud and looks right at her.

"I love my husband, Millie, whatever you may think, and I will defend that in front of anyone, even you. I'm sorry it's come down to this."

After Millie leaves, Quinn heads, very quietly and barefoot, into her backyard. She sits on the ground, her back against a tree, wondering why she doesn't feel at all like she thought she would. The one thing she feels more than anything is terror, crawling in her veins, a fear that the one thing she thought no one knew and no one would ever come to know is now out there, in the hands of two people who may or may not spread it, and there is nothing she can do to stop them.

She halfheartedly tries to call Finn, not really thinking about what she'll say, hoping the right words will come to her at the moment, but he doesn't pick up. She tries it again and again and again, afraid that with each moment that passes, Finn s further and further along in the task of spreading her secret.  _No longer a secret,_  she thinks, and before she realizes what she's doing, she's called Finn over twenty times and fallen asleep on the grass.

* * *

This is where he finds her, hours later, and for a moment wonders if maybe she's hurt, or if she's done something to herself.  _Wouldn't that solve everything_ , he thinks, and scares himself in the process. It is the first time in his whole life he's wished someone dead, even for a fraction of a second, and that someone is his wife. He curses Quinn for doing this to him; because in making herself someone different from the Quinn he knew, she's made him someone different from the man he used to be, too. He's afraid to find out who it is exactly that will emerge from this whole situation; he has never before been faced with anything quite like this. His life had been relatively easy and uneventful before, compared to this.

He walks over to Quinn and finds her asleep. He lies down next to her, looking up at the sky. When Willow comes home with the children, she spots them out in the backyard, and, frowning, attempts to walk over to them, but Finn shakes his head. She stays put, and then, rolling her eyes, turn around and goes back into the house, ushering her siblings into their bedrooms.

When the last rays of sun are all but gone, Quinn finally wakes up. She sits up like she has no idea where she is or who she is, until her eyes land on Finn. She buries her face in her hands and lets the minutes trickle by slowly, finally gathering her courage to ask the first thing on her mind.

"Did you tell anybody?"

He laughs, and the hollow sound, coming from deep inside his throat, frightens Quinn. "That's the only thing you care about, isn't it?"

Quinn shakes her head. "No, Finn, I-"

But he holds up a hand, motioning for her to stop.

"How long?"

"What?"

"How long has this been going on?"

"Finn-"

"Tell me, Quinn."

"I... I don't know. I don't remember." And it's the truth, she doesn't, mostly because she doesn't know exactly what it is he wants to know. How long they've been fucking? When did they first kiss? How long has she been in love with Santana? She thinks the answer to that one may be  _Since forever. Since before I even met you. Since before I met her. Maybe since before I was even born._

"When you went to pick up Willow from camp...?"

Quinn latches on to that, thinking it doesn't sound as bad as the rest of the stuff in her head does, and it's in a sense the truth.

"Yes. That's when it started."

Finn sighs, pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lights one.

"Oh, Finn," Quinn says softly. Is this what is going to happen, now? Is he going to start hurting himself because of her? She almost wants to tell him she's not worth it.

"So, are you, like, gay, now?"

It's a naive question, Quinn thinks, but as naive as it might be, she still doesn't know the answer. "No. I don't think so. I don't know."

He takes another puff from his cigarette. "So, what do you want to do?"

"What do you mean, what do I want to do?"

He shrugs. "Well, the way I see it, it's your call."

"My call?"

"You're the one that cheated on me. You're the one that doesn't want to be with me."

"Finn, I... that's not... that's not why I did it."

"Why did you, then?"

"I... I don't know."

"Are you in love with her?"

Quinn feels her eyes begin to fill with tears, her throat closing up, and Finn shuts his eyes for a minute, like he's dizzy. "Quinn, you can't mean to tell me... you can't possibly tell me that the twenty years of our relationship weigh less than the months you've known Santana. Or did you never love me in the first place?"

"No, Finn," she says softly. "I loved you. I still love you. It's just... different. I don't know. I wish I could explain it, but nothing I say is going to matter, it's just-"

"What were you planning to do? Leave me? Or keep cheating on me behind my back?"

"I... I don't know." She really doesn't. With Santana, one didn't look ahead or plan for anything. She had been content, for once in her life, to just live in the moment, not in the future, or, even worse, in the past.

"Goddammit, Quinn. You don't know, you don't know, that's all you keep saying. What _do_  you know?"

Quinn begins crying again, and Finn shuts up. It's the one thing he can't handle, seeing his wife cry, even when he knows she deserves it.

Quinn was prepared for a lot of things, but she certainly wasn't prepared for this. She didn't know that hurting someone could be so painful. She feels like she's being picked apart, tiny bone by tiny bone, all because she knows she's broken Finn's heart.

They let time pass, until Quinn is no longer crying, and then Finn turns to look at her. "The way I see it, you have two choices. One, you stay with me, we go to therapy like we said we would, try to work things out. Two, you leave with her. And by that, I mean leave. You go away, stay away and never come back. I'm not leaving town because you made a mistake, and I am not going to watch my wife parading around with some other... woman."

 _Who said it was a mistake?_  Quinn thinks. But she doesn't have much of a choice. She knows she doesn't have the courage to uproot herself from her life. The sole idea of someone finding out makes her breath catch in her throat. All is getting buried at once, past, present, futures, memories, dreams she had held on to so dearly, as a little girl, as a teenager. On one side, are the fantasies she had of her life with Finn. A wedding, children, a family, growing old together; fantasies she knows she no longer has a right to. On the other, are her fantasies of love, of sex, of soulmates; all the things she had thought she had with Finn until Santana came along and showed her better.

She feels like a failure in more ways than one, for not making it work with Finn, for thinking it would ever work with him, when, like Santana said once, the odds were so slim. And yet she has exactly the same odds with Santana, and the thought that that too, might fail, has kept her awake at nights also. How could she possibly choose?

Instead, she asks Finn a question. "How could you want to be with me, still?"

"I want to believe that you love me, Quinn. I want to believe that... twenty years, Quinn. The idea that you could just... wipe that off your heart is... ridiculous. It doesn't make any sense."

He's right. It doesn't. It doesn't, and maybe it's all these emotions that are making Quinn doubt herself, and what up until a few minutes ago, her heart believed to be real.

"Is that it?" she asks quietly. Is he going to forgive her just like that? She had expected him to yell, to kick her out, something much worse, something that hurt less than this, because she knows, then and there, that she cannot leave him, not when he's behaving like this.

Finn shrugs again. "What did you expect, Quinn? For me to throw a crazy fit, punch the walls, go spread this over half the town? You know I'm not like that."

Quinn shrugs. She does know.

"Or do you? Do you even know me at all? I mean, I thought I knew you."

"You do know me," she says weakly, and he sighs.

"You're going to have to make a decision, Quinn."

"I need time," she says. Remaining married to Finn comes but with one consequence; losing Santana. But choosing her comes with a whole different set that she's not sure she will not be capable of dealing with, now or ever. Losing her home, her family, her children, and being the victim of the kind of gossip she once so enjoyed engaging in. "I know it's selfish, and I know it's a lot to ask for, but-"

Finn grabs her hand in his, gently but without smiling. "Don't worry about it. Take your time."

If forced to, he would have to admit that the only reason he says this is that he's just relieved she didn't say no.

* * *

It is not a sound Jaeger, in his eight years of life, has ever heard before, and yet he thinks he would know it anywhere.

He follows it, his heart beating quickly, and finds his mother inside the bathtub of her bedroom, arms wrapped around her legs.

"Mom?" he says, softly.

Santana looks up like she just saw a ghost, and Jaeger's sure she wouldn't have been more mortified if she had.

"Jaeger, I... What are you doing here?"

"I heard you crying," he says simply.

"Oh, Jaeger, I'm so sorry, I..." Her eyes start to well-up again, but she fights the tears. Jaeger sits down on the edge of the tub.

"It's OK, mom. Grownups can cry, too."

"Huh?"

"Remember once you told me that it didn't matter that I was a boy, that I could cry whenever I wanted to?"

Santana smiles through her tears, not missing the irony of this. "You never cry, though."

"I know. But I know that if I want to, I can. It's OK if I do. And it's OK if you do it, too."

Santana nods, feeling oddly comforted by her son's permission. Jaeger pauses. "Can I ask why you're crying? I mean, you don't have to tell me, I know maybe it's none of my business, or you don't wanna talk about it—"

"It's fine, Jaeger. I… I did something bad. Like, really bad."

"And you're crying because you feel bad about it?"

"In part, yeah."

"And the other part?"

"I'm… I'm afraid."

"Of what?"

"Of having to face the consequences of what I did. Of losing someone that is very important to me. Of you."

"Why are you afraid of me?"

"I'm afraid of you finding out that… that I'm not who you think I am. I'm afraid of disappointing you. And, Jaeger, what I did… it might have an effect on your life, too."

He considers this for a minute. "Does this have to do with Elliott's mom?"

Santana looks at her son, open-mouthed. "Why… why do you ask that? Did someone say something to you? Did you dad? Or the kids at school? Or did you overhear—"

"No, mom. It's just a guess."

"Jaeger," she starts, but he interrupts her.

"You know what, mom? It's usually parents who have to tell their children they know they're gay, not the other way around."

"I… Jaeger… what?" she says, feeling like her soul is leaving her body, but like, at the same time, everything's getting lighter, all of sudden.

"Does she love you back?"

"I… I don't know. I think so?"

Jaeger nods. "I think so, too."

* * *

Quinn picks up on the first ring. "Hello?"

Her voice is not whispery or afraid, instead it's anxious, hungry, relieved. Santana sighs in relief, too.

"Are you allowed to talk to me?"

Quinn nods vigorously, then remembers Santana can't see her. "Yes. I think. I don't know. Finn's not in the room."

"He isn't? I thought he'd be watching over you like a guard dog."

"Santana, please don't."

"I'm sorry."

They both stumble over their words. "Quinn-"

"I-"

"You go first," Quinn says quickly.

"Sam knows," Santana blurts out.

Quinn moans softly. The list of people that know just seems to be getting bigger and bigger. "How... did you tell him?"

"No. Finn did."

"Oh," Quinn says, feeling slightly disappointed in her husband, even though she knows she doesn't have the right to be. "I thought... I didn't think he'd told anyone."

"Well, according to Sam, he only told him, because he couldn't leave his best friend in the dark. He thought Sam had a right to know. Which I'm not going to argue with. He did."

"I guess we can't blame him, huh?"

Santana sighs. "I don't think there's anything in this whole thing we can blame Finn for, as much as I wish there was."

"How did Sam take it?"

"Oh, you know Sam. He didn't, at all." She pauses. "What are we going to do, Quinn?"

Quinn is silent. Like she hasn't been waiting for Santana's call all day. Like this question hasn't been the only one in her head ever since Finn found them.

Santana takes a deep breath. "Quinn, I'm... I'm not staying with Sam."

"What?"

"I decided, yesterday. If I can't have you, I'm not going to stay here, where I'll have to see you all the time. I'm going back to Chicago."

It's true. If she can't have the one thing she loves most, she will surround herself with other things she loves; science, her brother, her son. It was like she had known, the moment her eyes met Finn's in that mirror, that, one way or another, things would never be the same, not because life was forcing her to make changes, but because she wanted to make them.

Quinn feels her heart drop to her feet. It's the solution to everything, and yet she does not think she can go through with it. "You're not... you're not asking me to come with you, are you?"

"I don't know. Do you want me to ask you to come with me?"

"I... Santana, I... we... there are so many things we need to talk about."

Santana doesn't seem offended by her lack of enthusiasm. "You're right. I need to see you."

"But-"

"Look, text me when Finn is out, OK? Or when you think we can meet."

"OK."

"I love you, Quinn."

"I love you, too."


	54. Chapter 54

 

The next time Quinn shows up at her parents, it is more than obvious that they already know. Finn must have talked to them too, probably an attempt to get them to intervene. She doesn't hold it against him. In many senses, he was always more their son than she was ever their daughter.

"Who told you?"

"Quinn, seriously, did you think I need to be told?" Judy asks, scowling. "Besides, why does that matter? You sound like a child, trying to avoid things."

Her father takes it worse than her mother, who has always expected Quinn to disappoint her. Quinn doubts it was ever a surprise to her. Her father, on the other hand, nearly doubles over in pain, and it makes Quinn's eyes sting and water with it.

"Quinn, this is not who you are."

"Daddy-"

"This is not who we raised you to be," he says, getting up from the couch and exiting the living room slowly, like every step pains him, and Quinn realizes with a start that she never noticed how fast he was aging. Or maybe it's just now that he's aged, right in front of her eyes. Maybe this, like everything, is her fault.

Her mother is looking at her acutely, painfully aware of all the expressions going through her daughter's face, and she sighs. "Quinn, you have to take care of yourself."

Quinn's so taken aback by the unusual gentleness with which these words are delivered that she gapes in shock. "What?"

"I know you feel like, right now, it's all about her, but you have to think about what's best for you. Don't think about Finn or the children. Think about how much this is going to hurt you."

"It's already hurting me, mamma."

"Tell me."

"It hurts to think I have to leave Finn. It hurts to think I have to tell the kids. It hurts to think I have to stay away from her. No matter what I do, it's going to hurt."

"You two could always remain friends."

"No, mamma. I won't be able to stay away from her."

Judy pauses. "Quinn, your father and I always tried to help you make your decisions, and we always looked out for your best interests. We didn't want you to suffer. But we can't help you anymore. At the end of the day, you have to take responsibility for yourself. We can't do it for you."

"And how do I do it, mamma? Maybe I'm so used to you guys doing it for me that I have no idea what to do."

"Looking out for yourself means you won't let other people hurt you. And this Santana is hurting you. You're letting her hurt you."

 _She hurts because she's part of my bones. She's hurt, always, even before I met her._  "It's not her that's hurting me, mamma. It's the situation."

"Then remove yourself from the situation."

"I can't, mother. That's what you don't understand. I've always been in this situation. From the moment I married Finn, I've been in this situation. It's as if she was always there, calling out to me from somewhere, offering the life that could have been. That should have been."

"Quinn, it's very few women that actually let themselves be carried away with this kind of love. And there's a reason why."

"What is it?"

"That it's not normal, Quinn"

"I am not going to let you sit here and be a homophobic-"

"No, Quinn, listen. What I mean is, you can't make life's choice's based on love alone. It's a fairy tale they've all made us believe in. What they don't tell you is that, if you let it, there is a kind of love that can drive you insane, that can take everything-"

"It's already taken everything, mamma."

"You can't let it. You have to fight it."

"I'm so tired, mama. I don't wanna fight anymore."

"You know when you were little and your daddy told you you had to guard your heart?"

"Yeah."

"This is exactly like that."

"Guard my heart against what, mamma? Against love?"

"If you have to."

"What if I don't want to? I'm afraid if I let her go now, I will never love anyone like this again."

"That's probably a good thing. You're greedy, Quinn. Asking for more than what you already have when you have so much. Anyone would be happy with the life you have. You have your children. Love  _them_."

"That's not the same thing. At all."

"Quinn, when you're young, you hold on to love like it's your only guarantee, your only certainty. But if you were a bit older, a bit wiser, you would see it is the one thing in which there are no guarantees. No certainties."

* * *

 

There's a party to celebrate the start of the new football season, and Quinn is almost certain Santana won't be there. She's right, though she does spot Sam and Jaeger, who both look at her oddly. She tries to avoid them as much as possible, but catches Jaeger shooting furtive glances her way every once in a while. He does not, however, seem to be looking to talk to her, which is a relief. If only she could say the same for Sam.

He finally catches her, off guard and alone, at one point during the evening. She tries to ignore him, but he holds on to her arm. "You're really not gonna talk to me? I'm not the one who banged your husband, Quinn."

She shuts her eyes for a moment. "What do you want me to say, Sam? That I'm sorry? I am, but somehow I don't think that means much to you."

"You're right. It doesn't. But at least you had the decency to say it. Or, should I say, the hypocrisy? Santana didn't. You know she claims she's a lesbian, now?"

"No. I didn't know. But if that's what she said... then she must mean it."

Sam scoffs. "Yeah. Not likely."

Quinn feels herself getting irritated in spite of everything. "What, you think she's just saying it to piss you off?"

Sam smiles. "Maybe. Turning your head like that and all..."

"Is that what Finn told you? Did he tell you what he saw?"

"Oh, yes. He explained every detail."

"And what part of that made you think she turned me anything? That day I was doing exactly what I wanted. I wanted her."

Sam stops smiling all of sudden. "That's my wife you're talking about, Quinn."

"Y'all aren't married."

"Not yet."

"You won't be, Sam. She's leaving."

"Not if you don't go with her."

"Even if I don't, she'll still have the two most important things in her life."

"And what are those, according to you?"

"Science and Jaeger."

Sam looks at her weirdly. "You're missing the third."

"What third? Me?"

Sam laughs bitterly. "I can't believe it. It's just like her. Asking you to sacrifice everything and not telling you a word about it."

"About what?"

"Ask her about the guy in the picture, Quinn."

* * *

 

It seems like no one ever rings their doorbell. In fact, Santana doesn't even recognize the noise when she hears it, and, once she figures out what it is, has an odd sense of foreboding. This can't be a good thing; she's pretty sure it's the first time since they've been living here that someone's even pressed that button.

She can't help but think this must have something to do with Quinn, and she's right. She opens the door, in her sweats and messy hair, and finds Judy staring at her with a sneer.

"Morning."

"Oh. Good morning."

"Did I wake you?"

"Uh, no," Santana says wondering why she thinks so until she catches her looking at her outfit. She rolls her eyes. Judy probably wakes up fully dressed and made-up every morning.

"May I come in?"

Santana shrugs, steps aside. Judy shows herself into the living room, has a seat on the couch. "Nice house. Who's your decorator?"

Santana, not one for small talk, now or ever, purses her lips. "I take it you're not here to talk about my furniture?"

"I was trying to be polite."

"I'd rather you just get to the point. It's not like I don't know what this is about, anyway."

"Really? Explain it to me, then."

"You're trying to convince me to leave your daughter alone. What you fail to realize is, the damage is already done."

"You're right. Damn her. She's got such a soft heart."

"It's her best quality."

"You're not good for her, Santana. And I don't mean because you're a girl, or that you aren't good enough, I just mean... you're not... safe."

"Are you really trying to convince me that you're looking out for Quinn's best interests right now?"

"I always am."

"And you sincerely think Finn is the best thing for her?"

Judy pauses, as if she had never considered this before. "Well, I don't know about the best, but he's definitely a better choice than you." She sighs. "You know what she asked me, the morning of her wedding? She said, Mamma, what if there is someone out there who's better for me? I told her they were just wedding jitters. That she was never going to find anybody better."

Santana laughs bitterly. "Well, you were right."

"You children always expect everything to be a picnic."

"Oh, believe me, this is hardly a picnic."

"I know my daughter, and I know she isn't. But you must have known it too, if you're as intelligent as they say you are."

"That's what I like about her."

"You know, when she asked me that, I wasn't lying because I wanted her to get married, in spite of what you might believe. I really didn't think there was anyone better for her than Finn. I still don't."

"Well, she obviously doesn't agree."

"No. But at least Finn kept her sane. That's what scared me about her falling in love like this. She's so intense, I was scared she'd get lost in it. Like she is now."

* * *

 

A couple of hours after Judy is gone, the doorbell rings again. Santana rolls her eyes. Is this seriously happening to her right now? She swings the door open angrily, only to find Quinn standing outside.

"Jesus. Quinn." She ushers her in before anyone can see her, and the first thing they do is fall into each other's arms. It takes Quinn no time to begin sobbing, and Santana almost wants to cry with her. Instead, she puts an arm around her and leads her to the couch, where Quinn buries her face into Santana's neck. She feels her own grief stinging her then, real for the first time since this whole thing happened, grief so deep that nothing can comfort her, not Quinn's arms around her, not anything, because she feels buried and bruised underneath it and she wonders if she was ever anything but this.

Santana runs her hands down her back. Quinn sobs into her neck. "I just... I just feel so bad for Finn."

Santana pulls away immediately. "What?"

"I said-"

"I heard you. I just... are you serious right now?"

"Of course I'm serious."

"I thought you were crying because you felt bad about us-"

"I do feel bad about us. But I also feel bad for Finn. And for my kids. I'm sorry you don't feel the same way about Sam-"

"Of course I don't fucking feel the same way about Sam. I care way too much about you to even be concerned with him right now-"

Quinn feels an unreasonable anger arising within her. "Really? Because according to him, you don't."

"When did you talk to Sam? And why would you listen to anything that he-"

"He was the one who was following me around at the kick-off party."

"What did he say to you?"

Quinn gets up and walks to the kitchen. Santana, frowning, follows her, until they're both standing in front of the fridge. Quinn points to the picture on there. "Who is that?"

"Quinn-"

"Who? An old boyfriend, an ex-husband-"

"My brother, all right? That's my brother."

"You have a brother?"

"Yes."

"And you never thought to tell me?"

Santana sighs. "It's a long story."

"I've got time," Quinn says, even though she doesn't.

"It's not a story I particularly enjoy telling."

"And yet you expect me to move half-way across the country with some woman I know nothing about?"

"Quinn, you know everything important-"

"So your brother isn't important?"

Santana shuts her eyes for a second. "Quinn, you can't just expect me to tell you everything right here, right now-"

"Why not? It's as good a time as any. How am I supposed to want to be with you when you won't even talk to me?"

"There's a reason I haven't told you, Quinn. It's my personal life. I spent too much time trying to hide, trying to keep nosy people away from Jaeger to just... I just... I wanted to unplug myself from our life for a little while, is that so wrong?"

"I don't know, Santana. Believe it or not, I love life too much. I don't want to disconnect from it like you do."

Santana sighs. "I've been discouraged with life ever since I was born, Quinn. When I got the parents I did. You can't just expect me to... besides, it's not like I'm the only one keeping secrets."

"What are you talking about?"

Santana sighs. "Look, Quinn, it's your business what you tell me or not, but... Why didn't you tell me? About Elizabeth?"

Quinn's eyes go wide. "Who... what... that's not... it's not the same thing at all. That's something I don't talk about."

"Well, it's the same for me with Jake."

"Who's Jake?"

"My brother."

"Your brother is not dead, Santana."

"I know he's not, that wasn't what I meant-"

"Are you actually comparing-"

"No one's comparing anything-"

"Yes, you are. This is the reason I never told you. I knew you weren't going to understand like-"

"Like what? Like Finn does?"

"At least Finn would have never gotten rid of his own kid."

"Seriously, Quinn? That had nothing to do with you. I didn't even know. Maybe if you had told me-"

"What? You would have kept it?"

"No, but I wouldn't have told you about it."

"And what, kept one more secret from me? But hey, what's another one, right?"

"Quinn-"

"You know what, Santana? My mother was right. This is never going to work."

"Oh, I'm guessing she fed you the same lines she fed me? She was here earlier, you know."

"What did she say?"

"That I'm not good for you, that I make you crazy-"

"Can you seriously say she's wrong, though?"

"Quinn, I'm not the one that's making you crazy-"

"Oh, you mean because I already am?"

"I never said that-"

"But it's what you're thinking-"

"How do you even know what I think-"

"Oh, come on, I can see it in your eyes, you're angry-"

"Of course I'm angry. You just barged into my house to accuse me of lying to you and now you're judging me for my personal decisions... You don't own me, Quinn. And you're right, this isn't going to work."

They look at each other defiantly, neither willing to back down, and then Quinn realizes she's just wasting her time here when she should be home, waiting for her husband like the good wife she's supposed to be, the one she was all along until she met this woman. She spins on her heel, and, without a word to Santana, exits through the front door.

* * *

 

Finn comes home to find Quinn in the kitchen, attempting to turn on the stove. He frowns. "Where's Millie?"

"Huh?" Quinn asks, still preoccupied with the stove.

"Millie. Where is she?"

"Millie? Oh, I fired her."

"Fire... what?"

"Yeah. So now we're gonna have a nice, home-cooked meal."

"We've been having home-cooked meals, Quinn. They just weren't cooked by you."

"Well, from now on, they will be."

"From now on?"

She turns around and Finn notices she's wearing a brand-new white lace apron on top of her clothes. She's dressed up, done her make-up and everything, like there's reason to celebrate. Maybe there is.

He grabs her by the waist. "Does that mean...?"

Quinn kisses him on the lips. "It means I got us an appointment with a therapist next week."

Finn frowns. This all seems to be going too well.

"Quinn, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Finn. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. I just... I thought it'd be a much harder decision to make."

"Finn, before, I... I don't know what I was thinking. I could never leave you, our kids, our home. I made a mistake, and I'm so sorry, but... it's all right, now. I'm going to go to therapy to try and get it fixed."

Finn attempts a smile, hoping therapy really will prove as beneficial as his wife expects it to be. He smells smoke and looks around the kitchen. There is something burning on a pan, and Quinn is oblivious to it. He gestures toward it, and she spins around immediately, trying to turn off the stove.

"Shit."

And somehow, just like that, he knows that now, there's a new part to Quinn that even therapy won't be able to erase, a part courtesy of Santana, a part that's here to stay.

* * *

 

Santana gets up extra early for her morning run the next day, hoping to avoid Finn. He hasn't been running since the last time they saw each other, but it's still a precaution she takes every day. She doesn't know why he's hiding, he has nothing to be ashamed of. The same thing has apparently occurred to him, because he's there the next morning, just as early as she is. She can see him, about half a mile away, and knows there is no way she can avoid him, and even if she could, she wouldn't back out of this now.

They slow down when they come upon each other, and Finn raises his eyebrows at her. "You're up early."

"So are you."

He shrugs. "Great minds think alike, huh?"

Santana knows he's being kind, but all she wants to do is slap him. He won, he's got Quinn, of course he would take it this calmly.

"Don't pretend like we're friends, Finn."

"Of course we're not friends, Santana. It's called having manners."

"Well, I'd rather you didn't."

"Why, because you don't?"

She rolls her eyes. "This is completely unnecessary. Unless there's something you want to say to me. You want to goad? Laugh in my face? Or hit me, maybe?"

He frowns. "I would never hit you."

"Oh, stop playing stupid, Finn. Like you didn't always know she was going to choose you. But just so you know, it was a mutual agreement. It's not like she just chose you, we just..."

She lets her voice trail off. What is she going to say? Whatever she does say, it's going to end up sounding stupid, ridiculous, and it's going to end up making things look worse than they already are. Finn starts walking again, not wanting to hear any more of this, but then seems to change his mind and turns around.

"Do you love her?"

"Is that any of your business?"

"It's all my business, Santana."

She sighs. "Yes. I love her."

"And she loves you back?"

"I'm pretty sure she does."

"You know, when I asked her that same question, she didn't answer."

"Of course she didn't answer, Finn. Why would you expect her to? She's broken-hearted about betraying you."

"You must think I'm crazy, huh? For wanting to stay with someone who cheated on me?"

Santana shakes her head. "You love her. I can understand that. I just think you deserve better, Finn."

"That's a pretty low blow, even for you."

"That wasn't what I meant. Quinn is perfect but... you deserve someone who loves you."

 


	55. Chapter 55

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter, and I would like to thank everyone who stuck with this story through all of its 55 chapters; those of you that were here since the beginning and those who joined in at some point.   
> I will be posting a short epilogue on May 1st, but, as for now, I consider this story to have ended.  
> I will forever be grateful to everyone here for their kindness, patience and love for this story. You guys have brought so much to my life, and I miss you already.

 

She's not sure she ever realized how heavy a vacuum cleaner was before. She's been going crazy these past few days, trying to keep the house as neat and as clean as Millie kept it, not wanting Finn to think for a moment that she isn't committed to making this whole thing work. He's already upset enough about the Millie thing as it is, and Quinn hasn't even had the courage to tell the kids what really happened, instead telling them she's sick. She hopes they will forget about Millie soon enough, that there won't be any need for her to explain.

Finn's gone out to buy groceries when Quinn decides to vacuum their room. It seems like an easy enough task at first, not that she's ever done it, but, how hard can it be? Harder than she imagined, apparently, starting by the fact that she's having the most difficult time dragging the thing over their thick, heavy carpet. She's glad no one's here to witness her struggle; Elliott and Daisy are spending the night over at their grandparents, and Willow's out, as usual.

She manages to get half of the room done before she moves on to their closet. She's sweating already, an unusual sensation for her, at least in these past few months she's been skipping out on the gym. She's busy thinking about that when she hears the vacuum make a strange noise and immediately tugs it back. There is something on the floor, and as she bends to pick it up, she realizes it's one of Santana's hoop earrings.

It hits her, then. Everything had seemed fine until that moment; she had been able to put Santana out of her mind, to convince herself that she had done the right thing. Suddenly, though, Quinn feels like she can't breathe, like the air inside the closet is too dense, like a fog, a fog she's inhaling, a fog that's seeping into her system and making her anxious, sick. She quickly moves to her bed, trying to regain control, to take a few deep breaths, but fresh air doesn't feel any easier to come by.

What do you do, when even the air you breathe in through your nose hurts? Sometimes, Quinn thinks she could write a book,  _the_  book, on unhappiness, and right now is one of those times. As much as she had avoided really thinking about any of this before, right now, she can't stop thoughts from coming at a time when they shouldn't come, when she has other things to be doing, other things to be thinking. But this is here, and she can't stop it.

She races outside before she drowns in this, and throws herself on the cool, muddy earth like it's relief. She knows her white silk robe will be damaged beyond repair, but she doesn't care. There, with her chest pressed to the ground, she feels, at first, a warped sense of calm, which quickly turns into a pain as sharp as she's ever known in her life. It's not just grief, it's something she doesn't even recognize in herself; an anger so strong it's like waves crashing and colliding inside. The darkness gives her some sort of shelter, and soon Quinn's in her forest, howling like an animal in the night, tearing dirt and roots from the earth, then just lying on it like she's dead, red earth under her nails like blood, and maybe it is, maybe she wishes it was.

When Finn gets home, he pretends to look for her, even though, once he sees she's not in their room, he knows exactly where he will find her. The truth is, he's afraid of what he'll find this time. The twenty years they were together, he had felt like Quinn was some sort of frail creature he had to protect. Now, though, he's more aware than ever before of the necessity of protecting himself. He's afraid of his own wife, and of the power she has, though she doesn't know it, to break him.

With a heavy heart, he goes out into the backyard. Quinn is sprawled on the ground, but this time, her eyes are wide open, staring at the sky. He doesn't think he's ever seen another human being look so miserable, and his heart stops in his chest. Is it really so terrible, being married to him? He always thought he was a good husband, he did his best. What do you do when your best isn't enough?

He doesn't sit down this time, but instead stands next to Quinn's limp body and looks down at her. "If it hurts this much, just go to her," he says, quietly.

But Quinn sits up, shaking her head. "Finn, it's not that, I love you, I just think... I think I'm going crazy."

"I love you, too, Quinn."

"You can't love me, Finn. I'm a mess, I've always been a mess."

"And I have always loved you, as you are."

Quinn grabs his hand, intertwines their fingers together, and Finn sighs.

"It always seems like I'm just waiting, you know?"

Quinn looks up at him. "Waiting? For what?"

"For you to be good enough for me. For you to be whole."

And maybe it's not what he means. Or maybe it is. It's just that it always seems like he's waiting for Quinn to catch up to him, in more ways than one. It isn't that she's not good enough, not exactly, but it's almost like she's not ready, yet, for so many things, and he wonders how he never saw it until now. He squeezes her hand.

"It's not just you. I made a lot of mistakes, too."

Quinn nods, not saying anything, and he wonders if she even understands.

How long is he going to have to wait for her now?

* * *

 

Days, weeks, months. All Quinn knows is, she's been avoiding life and the world for long enough. She doesn't feel any better, or any more ready to go out, but she knows she has to, for Finn's sake, for the kids. She hasn't been out of the house even once, ever since that day when Santana walked out. Quinn thinks maybe that meant something, that Santana walking out without her meant Quinn couldn't walk out of there on her own, ever. She doesn't know if Santana's left town yet, and there is no one she can ask. Maybe that's the whole reason she can't bear the thought of going out, that she couldn't bear running into Santana, or, even worse, finding out she's gone. Because of this, she's missed recitals, plays, parent-teacher conferences, everything. She knows people must be talking about her. She doesn't know what Finn's told them, but she'd rather they think she's sick or that she's got cancer than have them guess at the real truth.

She knows she should ask Finn to take her out, but somehow she can't bring herself to. She waits until a day when no one is home to call Puck and ask for a ride. He's at her doorstep twenty minutes later. It seems like it's been a long time since they've seen each other. It probably has.

"Ready?" he asks.

Quinn nods, even though she isn't really, and maybe Puck can sense that, because instead of looking at her weird for walking so slowly, he grabs her hand when she takes her first tentative step outside. She looks at him gratefully and he shrugs, and they make their way to her parent's car step by step, and Quinn thinks that anyone who sees them will think she really was sick all this time, after all. A terrifying thought sneaks into her brain, that maybe she is, that maybe someone who wasn't would never stay cooped up indoors for so long, no matter the reason. She pushes it away, though, she's got enough to deal with for now, being out in the sunlight that stings and makes her eyes water until Puck rolls up the windows and makes sure no light is sneaking in.

"You alright?"

She nods.

"Where do you wanna go?"

Maybe she's lost her ability to talk, too, at least to people who aren't her family, because her voice comes out hoarse and rough. "Supermarket."

Puck nods and starts to drive, but Quinn makes a strangled noise. "No."

He turns to look at her, eyebrows raised.

"I just... I want... Diamond Grove."

Puck frowns at her. "You want to go all the way to Diamond Grove?"

"Yeah."

"To the supermarket?"

Quinn nods. Diamond Grove is about forty minutes away, and, Quinn figures, her best shot at not running into anyone she knows. Puck seems to guess, because he doesn't say anything, just turns the car around.

She falls asleep on the way there, maybe because it's easier than having to deal with this very large world. She wakes with a start when Puck parks the car, and she opens her door almost immediately, forgetting she's afraid of what's outside. Puck opens his door, too, but Quinn shakes her head. He looks at her incredulously.

"You don't want me to come?"

"I have to..." Quinn pauses. "I have to... alone."

He nods, but still looks concerned after her as she makes her way into the store.

* * *

 

The enclosed supermarket beats the world outside, but not by much. It's still much larger than her house, as large as that may be, and it still feels like open space. She remembers that day, when she found Santana's earring and felt like she couldn't breathe, how her room felt too small, too closed up, and thinks about how it's space that doesn't let her breathe now, that makes her feel like she's choking.

She wanders around the aisles aimlessly, hoping this cloud over her head will dissipate after enough walking. She has a feeling she has been in here for a long time, but she isn't sure. There are a lot of people around, and that makes her nervous until she realizes that will make her harder to spot if she does run into someone she knows.

She doesn't even have a shopping cart, can't think of anything she needs. Either Finn's pretty good at buying groceries, or Quinn has lost all will to even think about stuff she might want, which used to be her forte.

She makes her way down the dog food aisle, thanking God they never had a dog. The aisle is full of unlucky souls who do, but even so, at the other end of the aisle, she spots a figure that looks mildly familiar, though she isn't sure. She squints. She's probably just being paranoid, plus, she actually thinks her vision's deteriorated from being inside the house for so long. The figure stiffens when she sees her, though, and Quinn feels her breath catch in her throat.

It would make sense, if both of them stood at a standstill in the midst of the crowded supermarket, but they don't. Instead, they keep walking toward each other, and Quinn feels almost like she can walk now. Or maybe she isn't walking, but floating.

Santana's walking too, and then she's standing in front of Quinn. There's only a couple of inches between them and Quinn doesn't know what to do, but she knows what she wants and Santana does too. She wraps her arms around Quinn, and Quinn buries her face in her chest and feels a choked sob leave her throat.

People are staring at them, but they don't care. For the first time in her life, Quinn doesn't care. And maybe they're all strangers, but it's a step, and the remaining steps, she realizes, are steps she's willing to take. She can feel Santana holding her tighter, whispering into her ear.

"Come with me. Come with me."

She kisses her on the lips, and, just like that, doubt surges in Quinn's chest again. "But... I don't even know anything about you. I don't know who you are, I don't know shit about your family, I don't know-"

"I'll tell you. I promise I'll tell you," Santana says between kisses.

"But, Santana, there's stuff I haven't told you either, and-"

"I know. And you don't have to, unless you want to, and-"

"You don't understand," Quinn says desperately.

"Do you want to be with me?"

"Yes."

"Then what is there to understand?"

"That you don't know me!" Quinn bursts out.

Santana stares at her. "Fine, Quinn. Tell me who you are. Any version, every version. I will love every single one."

Quinn wishes she could put into words the latent danger she feels like she is, after she hurt Finn, after she ruined his life, her life, her kids lives. Then she realizes the answer is more terrifying than she thought.

"I don't know who I am," she whispers.

It's ridiculous, to be having this conversation in the middle of a supermarket. And yet, here they are.

Santana thinks about this for a minute, then looks into her eyes. "That day, when you were dancing, before I came in... when you looked into the mirror... who did you see?"

Quinn shrugs. "I don't remember. Because now, whenever I try to dance, all I see in the mirror is you. Even Daisy knows." Her eyes fill with tears. "You don't get it, do you? I used to be Finn's wife, and now I'm just the girl who loves you. I'm afraid I'm never going to be me."

"I want you to be you. I like  _you_. Not Finn's wife. Not even the girl who loves me. You. The girl who was dancing and jumping on the bed that day, Quinn. That's you."

* * *

 

When Pucks drops her off at home again, Quinn finds Willow home alone, sitting on the kitchen counter, eating ice cream from the carton with a spoon. Her first impulse is to snatch it away from her, or maybe say something about how she shouldn't be doing that; eating ice cream like that, or sitting on the counter that way, but instead, she blurts out something completely different.

"I'm leaving your father."

Willow's expression darkens a bit, but she continues eating.

"Willow, did you hear me?"

"Yes. I heard you."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Don't you have anything to say?"

"What do you want me to say, mom?"

"I don't know. Something."

Willow shrugs. "Are you sure?"

"Am I sure about what?"

"That you're gonna go through with this?"

"What, do you think this is some kind of idle threat? That I'm just doing it to-"

"Oh, I think we both know exactly why you're doing it."

"Really?"

"Yes. Really."

Willow says it with such certainty as to leave no doubt in Quinn's mind, and she sighs. "We're moving."

"Where?"

"Chicago."

Willow raises her eyebrows. "Now,  _that_  I didn't see coming. You think Elliott and Daisy will be able to handle the cold?"

Quinn shrugs. "They should like the snow. They're never seen any. Besides, it's you who doesn't like the cold."

Willow sets her ice cream carton down on the counter. "I'm not coming with you, mamma."

"What do you mean you're not... Of course you are, Willow."

"No, I'm not."

"You're a minor. You don't get a say in this."

Willow raises her eyebrows coolly. "You sure that's how you want this to go down?"

Quinn takes a deep breath. "Willow, I know you don't like me—"

"That has nothing to do with it."

"Then?"

"You think I'm just going to leave Daddy alone? After what you're doing to him? It'll break him."

"Willow-"

"No, mom. Really. For once in your life, think about somebody else besides yourself."

Quinn shuts up and looks at her. Willow goes on.

"This has nothing to do with you. Or me. It's about him."

Quinn feels like the world has stopped spinning on its axis. So this is how it starts. The heartbreak of leaving Finn, of living the truth, of breaking up her family.

Willow grabs her spoon and sticks it back into her mouth. She sucks on it mindlessly as she stares at her mother's vulnerable face.

"Oh, mom, come on. It's not like you and I ever even got along in the first place."

Quinn sniffs. "You're still my daughter. I still..." She tries to hold back tears. "I still don't know how I'm going to live without you."

The expression on Willow's face softens. "You'll be fine."

"No, I won't."

"Then why are you doing this? You don't have to, you know."

Quinn looks at her daughter, and for the first time in Willow's sixteen years, expects her to understand. "I don't have to?"

Willow sighs. "No, you do. I know you do. You know you do."

Perhaps any other kind of answer would be too much to expect from a teenager, and Quinn stares at her daughter as she gets up, ready to leave the kitchen. She turns around before she does.

"Mom?"

"Yeah?" Quinn asks, sniffling through her tears.

"Will you do something for me?"

Quinn's hard-pressed to think of a time before now when Willow's asked for her help. Not since she was a child. She's not even sure Willow needs her help, not sure she can help her. Quinn can't even help herself, how could she possibly help-

"It's not that big of a deal, mom."

"OK. What is it?"

"I just... will you teach me to dance? Before you leave?"

Quinn's eyes light up, suddenly.

That she can do.

* * *

 

Quinn wakes up to the sound of Santana's hands running over the curve of her hip. She could recognize those hands anywhere, in the dark, without seeing them, just hearing them run over her skin.

_There is only one right person_ , Quinn thinks.  _Her name is Santana Lopez, and she lives in 902 Sycamore street._

Though not for long.

She grabs Santana's hand, intertwines her fingers with hers. Santana presses her forehead against Quinn's, and Quinn sighs.

"I'm scared."

She thinks Santana will ask of what, but she doesn't. "I know. Dreams are scary to have. Mine have always broken my heart."

"I don't know if I'm ready to do this."

"Good thing I am. Good thing life finds me at a good place right now."

Quinn's glad at least one of them is in a good place, and yet she knows that it doesn't matter if she isn't. She wants to love Santana and carry it out to its last consequences. Even if they're dragged through fire, she wants this.

She flips over on bed to face Santana and smiles.

"Santana?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you give me a hickey now?"

* * *

 

There was, when she married Finn, a moment just between the two of them. In their big, lavish wedding, with five hundred guests, during their first dance, Finn whispered something she can't for the life of her remember into her ear. The whole world, their whole marriage, was captured in this moment that she knew was sticking out brightly, like a shining star amidst every moment of their lives, against the backdrop of the world.

With Santana, there was no first dance, no guests. Just two girls, madly in love, signing papers at a registry, wearing flowery dresses because it was summer, and grinning employees who had never married two women before. They walked out holding hands, and Quinn could hear the music in her head and in her heart, and pulled Santana to a slow dance outside the courthouse, the midday sun shining on them like a blessing, until she was seeing Santana's smiling face a midst spot suns and wondering if this was all a dream, but in a dream, she would never be able to feel Santana's heart, beating against her chest so hard.

The day she married Finn, she had been worried about every detail, the menu, the dress, the bridesmaids. Now she can't even remember some of their names. But this day with Santana is just for her. There is no one to share it with, and that's good, because it means she can have it all to herself, save it whole in the locket of her heart.

No one else knew what they were feeling, what they're thinking, when they danced, but, somehow, they know exactly what the other is thinking. How could there be two moments like that in her life, two parallel existences, when the first one was supposed to last forever? How can you feel so connected to two places, two lives, two different moments in time?

It is right here, in this spot, where she forgives Finn. For not being what she expected. In such happiness, who can hold a grudge against anyone? Her love for Santana magnifies her love for life and everything in it.

She had loved Finn. And Santana, too, probably her whole life. And loved Elizabeth with a passion, whether she ever existed or not. And would have loved that child, that Santana could have had with Sam.

Maybe her life is meant to be made up of many loves, all of them like peaks and valleys, some rising when the others fall. Maybe it wasn't supposed to be just one, or even two, or who knows. She only knows one thing. When she looks into Santana's eyes, they all fit there, inside, every single one, her love for her children, for her parents, for her home, and there is something else, too. Inside her wife's eyes is the clear future, the hope, the promise, that there will be more to come.

 


	56. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, first of all, my apologies, because this is a day late and because it was supposed to be short and it isn't. At all. It's crazy how easy it is to write about these characters after doing it for so long. I feel like I know exactly what they're doing now, and what they will do years from now, and forever. So, forgive me if I got a little carried away.
> 
> On a different note, I have a lot of unfinished original writing projects, and completing this fic has given me the push I needed to get back to them again. I would love to have a beta, someone to read over these and help point out any mistakes, but mostly, just someone who will help me stay on track. So, if there is anyone out there with some free time on their hands who wouldn't mind doing this, please feel free to contact me on here or on Tumblr.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading.

It never gets easier, but it doesn't get any harder either.

One day, they're sitting on a park bench, sharing a bag of popcorn and watching some children play when Quinn says it. "I want a kid."

Santana doesn't even think about it. She has always been the kind to go for what she wants, and she knows Quinn has wanted this one thing for a long time. "Then have one."

Quinn turns to her wife distractedly, a half-smile on her face. "What?"

"I said, if you want a kid, have it."

Her wife lets out a defeated sigh. "I'm too fucking old."

"Women in their forties have children all the time."

Quinn stares at her, incredulous. "Santana. Do you want another child?"

She shrugs. "You know how I feel about that. How I've always felt about it."

Quinn's shoulder's sag. "For a minute, I thought..."

"Well, I'm not the one talking about having a baby, am I? If you want one, then have it."

"And what, you're just gonna go along with it?"

Santana shrugs again. "Well, yeah. What else can I do? File for divorce? Move out?"

Quinn snorts in spite of herself, then shakes her head. She takes a deep breath, looking up at the sky.

"Holy shit. You're serious, aren't you?"

Santana lays a hand on her wife's thigh. "Always am."

"But... when?"

Santana pops a handful of popcorn into her mouth. She still chews with her mouth full. Quinn long ago passed the point where she cared. "Like you said, your clock is ticking."

Quinn mulls over these words. "That's the way it always is with me, isn't it? My clock is always ticking."

She lays down on the bench, rests her head on Santana's lap. It's been a long time since she's fallen asleep to the words of music in her head.

* * *

Santana's moved so many times in her life that she used to wake up almost every morning with a start, not sure of where she was or how she'd gotten there. It's gotten better, now, after living with Quinn and feeling like she finally has a permanent place somewhere, but, sometimes, she still wakes up without knowing where she is.

She doesn't know why, but the very next morning after their conversation, when she wakes up, her location is not her first concern. Instead, right before she opens her eyes, the image of a baby, chin resting on her shoulder, flashes through her mind.

* * *

She finds Quinn sprawled on their unmade bed, wearing nothing but a pair of too-small, puppy print panties that look fit for a little girl, and not a woman of forty. Her breasts look enormous, her nipples dark, and her belly's sticking out like she's about to pop and not only five months pregnant.

There is a small bloodstain on the mattress, which Santana knows by now is normal, only Quinn will be upset about it when she wakes up. Everything about her pregnant body seems to embarrass her, but Santana thinks, though she would never say it, that she likes her better like this.

She remembers her wife showing her, with great pride, pictures from her days as a cheerleader, young and thin, the most beautiful that, according to her, she was ever going to be. That Quinn isn't this Quinn, that's for sure. This woman, her woman, looks exhausted nearly all the time. There are purple circles under her eyes that Santana suspects will not go away after this.

Santana knows a lot of words that would apply to this situation. Beyond, besides, in spite of. She's supposed to love Quinn beyond this, besides those circles, in spite of everything. But instead, she knows she will love Quinn precisely because of those circles, not as a tolerable side-effect, but as a reason.

After all these years, all she sees now, when she looks at her, are reasons.

* * *

Her body's borne four children already, birthed three, and always returned, like a rubber band, to it's previous, original, spectacular shape. Somehow, she knows this time will be different. No one has that many kids and gets away with it, she thinks forlornly. You can't have it both ways; be the hot Hollywood mamma and the mother of a brood; a litter, though she's beginning to feel this litter in particular will consist only of Santana, herself, and Bianca, when all the others flee the nest, with two of them gone, probably for good, already.

She always wanted a large family, envisioned herself among a crowd of lively, vivacious children who would put life back into her, but that never happened. Not even when she had them; they were neither loud nor vivacious. Now, though, she pictures herself, alone with Santana and Bianca, and it sits just right with her; like the thing you always wanted but never knew you did.

* * *

Sam laughs a little, which turns into a cough, which turns into blood. A speck lands on Jaeger's hand and he finds a moment to be thankful, something he never does anymore, that he was never queasy about blood.

Sam laughs again. "Don't tell me you're scared."

The words get stuck in Jaeger's throat.  _Don't tell me what I'm fucking scared of. You don't know shit._

He curses his father in his mind, for being sick. If he wasn't, Jaeger would be able to say them. He would be able to say that Sam's illness is the first thing in his life that has ever scared him, that has ever rattled him.

Well, the second.

He grips the steering wheel hard with his fingers, until they turn red and stiff. It only makes Sam laugh harder.

"Don't tell me you caught that thing Quinn has."

"What thing?" he asks defiantly.

But he knows what thing. That paralyzing fear of the steering wheel, of life. But she's doing better now, he thinks. Nothing like bringing life into the world to help you reshape its very concept. He wonders if she felt that way, when she had all of her other kids. Was every kid a rebirth, a chance to reinvent herself?

He remembers staying up one night, talking to her about her fear of driving. She couldn't put it into words, but he had known instantly what she was afraid of. More than hurting herself, she was afraid of hurting others. Jaeger thinks that behind every person who can't drive, there must be a fear of that.

With his father's eyes on him, he thinks that there might have been a point when he would have shared that fear. But this Jaeger, the one who takes care of Sam, can't afford to be afraid of anything. Even of hurting others. Even of hurting himself.

"No. I'm not scared."

* * *

Daisy's twelfth birthday present is a cell-phone. Her first phone call is from a number she doesn't know, but she beams when she hears her sister's voice on the speaker.

"Hey, bean."

"Hey, Willow."

"Happy birthday."

"Thanks."

"How's it going so far?"

"I got what I wanted."

"I know. Santana gave me the number."

"Yeah. She's the one that got it for me."

"What did mom get you?"

"Nothing." She pauses, feeling guilty for saying it at all. "A baby sister."

"Ah. Yeah. Same thing they told me when you were born."

"I don't understand how you don't hate me."

"I got over it. So will you."

"I don't hate her."

"Yeah, you couldn't. You're too sweet and she's hella cute. Too bad I wasn't."

"What? Cute?"

"No. Sweet. You were cute, though."

"You haven't even seen Bianca. How do you know she's cute?"

"How many pictures do you think mom's sent me?"

"I know. I don't think she has that many pictures of us combined."

Something in her voice makes Willow pause. "They don't love her more, you know."

"You don't think so?"

"No. Do you?"

"Sometimes."

"Why?"

"Because mom loves Santana, and she didn't love Daddy."

"Yeah, but Bianca isn't really Santana's kid."

"No, but she's her brother's. Same difference. And she looks exactly like her. And nothing like us. I don't even feel like she's my sister sometimes."

"Well, you watched her come out."

Daisy flinches involuntarily at the memory. She had insisted on being present, actually excited about this before it all happened. People had warned her not to do it, but, she now feels like no one bothered to warn her enough.

"I miss you, Willow."

Her sister smiles a little. "You've had years to miss me, Daisy, and you're just missing me now?"

Daisy shrugs, even though she knows Willow can't see her.

"Oh, come on, bean. You'll see me soon."

"Two weeks isn't soon."

Willow laughs. "Not for you, I guess."

"You still have a lot of stuff to do?"

"Kinda. Paperwork. Get my cap and gown. You know. Shit."

"I'll let you go, then. Thanks for calling."

"Any time."

* * *

"Hey, Barbie doll."

Don't ask him how, but Jaeger knows, instinctively, they're talking to him.

His mother's voice, from before he left, rings in his ears.

_Don't get in trouble._

She had been half-kidding, half-serious. What she didn't know was, trouble followed him.

He had just got out of Sam's beat-up old car, gone to buy his medicines. He knew these kids from school, but didn't talk to them. He didn't really talk to anybody there, save a friendly teacher or two. He knew it was against his best interests to be the old Jaeger there, the kid who always raised his hand in class, or, rather, the kid who never waited for the teacher to ask and blurted out the answer anyway.

But it didn't matter, these kids had something against him anyway. It was like no matter what he did, he was going to do it wrong. He wondered, wearily, if this was how his mother had felt when they first moved to the South.

"You got a driver's license?"

Jaeger shakes his head, locks the door of the car behind him.

"Then how come you got a car, Goldilocks?"

One of the guys steps closer, tugs roughly on his hair. He knew it. He knew it was going to cause him trouble, but he wanted so badly to hold on to this last vestige of who he used to be.

"Not mine," he says, taking a step back.

He knows how to fight. Jake taught him, when he found out he was moving here, and he's got the natural build for it. Quick, sleek, strong. It's just something he'd never thought he'd have to do. It's not something he thinks he'd like to do.

"Then whose? Your daddy's?"

Jaeger doesn't say anything, just keeps walking.

"Couldn't buy himself something better? All those years in the NFL... I guess the bench don't pay that good, huh?"

He knows better than to let these guys get a rise of him. At least he thought he did. He remembers, briefly, that fight on the playground of his elementary school, years ago, when he bust that kids nose for talking shit about his mom. Now, he does the same to this one, for talking shit about his dad.

He knows he's not thinking straight as soon as he feels the other kid pull him off his friend and give him a swift kick in the stomach. He rolls on the ground in pain, and pretty soon someone else is on top of him, taking a swing at his face, and someone stepping on this hand. He's pretty sure he's not going to make it out of this one without severe injury, until he hears someone screaming across the street, something about the cops, and the kids run.

He never remembers how he gets home, or how he cleans up the blood, only that he's mildly thankful he knows a thing or two about broken bones, and the somewhat painful realization that, yeah, there go his dreams of becoming a doctor. He will never be able to do that here.

He grabs a pair of scissors before his father can find him, and hacks at his hair until it's so short he no longer recognizes himself.

Good, he doesn't want to.

Later, when Sam sees him, he doesn't say anything.

It's clearer than anything to Jaeger that he understands.

* * *

"Shane, this is my brother Elliott."

Willow sees her boyfriend stretching out his hand and feels weird, introducing this creature that she feels like she hardly knows anymore. She sees Elliott often enough, and yet can't help but feeling that he's changed right before her eyes, and yet she never noticed.

He's tall now, tall and lanky, thinner probably than even her. His brown hair has grown long, and it falls over his eyes, hiding them. She gets the impression that's exactly what he wants. He wears a hoodie, no matter how hot it is in California, and dresses mostly in dark clothes.

If anyone understands angst, it's her, and maybe because of that, she gets a pang every time she thinks of her brother. She knows where he's gone, no one can reach him, not even her.

"Shane's an artist just like you, Elliott."

This causes her brother to look up, curiosity getting the better of him. Shane rolls up his sleeve to reveal his forearm, which is covered in tattoos.

Elliott rakes his eyes over them. They are pretty awesome, but he's past the point of showing overt emotion, so instead, he just nods.

"Cool."

* * *

Rachel can't have children. As much as Quinn likes her, she feels an odd pleasure thinking about this, particularly when she, even at forty, has turned out to be so fertile herself.

She runs into her at the bathroom of the university, just before the ceremony is about to start. Santana and her are both at the diaper-changing station, cooing over Bianca, when Rachel comes in. The three of them stare at each other until Santana, the first to regain her composure, clears her throat, making Bianca laugh.

Rachel smiles involuntarily, and Quinn smiles back. "Hi, Rachel."

"Hey," says Rachel, smiling easily. She gestures toward the baby. "That her?"

Quinn nods. "Yeah." She cocks her head toward Santana. "And this is my wife."

Rachel smiles at her and Santana feels almost like she knows her already. She likes her instantly, too. She finishes dressing Bianca and Rachel gets a good look at her.

"She's adorable. She looks just like you."

"I know, right?" Santana grins at Rachel. "You wanna hold her?"

Rachel bites her lip and nods, so enthusiastically that she steals both women's hearts forever.

Bianca starts wailing almost as soon as Rachel lays her hands on her. She looks worried, but Quinn and Santana exchange glances and laugh.

"It's OK, Rachel," Quinn says. "Nothing personal. She does that sometimes."

There is a longing in Rachel's eyes when she looks at Bianca, that makes Quinn's smug self-satisfaction turn almost instantly into pity. She wonders if maybe she doesn't have something in common with Rachel, if it's possible that what she feels about the babies she couldn't have is the same as what Quinn feels about Elizabeth.

Quinn's certain she hasn't been the best of mothers, but she doesn't know what she would have done if she hadn't been able to have children. She's grateful that, the two times she's been married, it was to the two best parents she knew, glad that someone was there to pick up the slack when she was not.

Maybe, she reasons, having so many children, is a sign of optimism. She knows she fucked up, before, and she knows exactly how she fucked up. With each new child, she hoped to do better, and now, with Bianca, she finally feels like she's ready.

At that moment, the door opens and Daisy comes in. She smiles at everyone before turning to look at herself in the mirror.

"Mommy?"

"Yeah?" Quinn answers distractedly as she takes takes the wailing Bianca from Rachel.

"My hair is a mess."

Quinn gets a good look at her daughter for the first time that day, and feels a flash of irritation.

"Daisy, I told you to take the time to brush it this morning."

"I did, mom, it's just that..." she lets her voice trail off. She doesn't think this is the best time to tell Quinn she's never actually had to do her own hair before.

Quinn sighs. Rachel glances at her and notices that, in spite of how much happier she looks now than the last time she saw her, she looks older, more tired. Quinn hands the baby to Santana and pulls a hair tie out of her purse. "Please try to pull it back or something. Ceremony's about to start. We'll meet you outside, OK?"  
Rachel and Daisy are left staring at each other in the mirror. Rachel pretends not to notice the tears welling up in Daisy's eyes and instead takes the hair tie from her.

"You like braids?"

Daisy shrugs.

"How about a braided bun, like a ballerina? You still like ballet?"

The mere mention of it makes the color return to Daisy's cheeks. Rachel smiles.

"Braided bun it is."

* * *

Quinn and Santana have somehow managed to score seats in the front rows of the auditorium. Daisy spots them and runs there, leaving Rachel to find Finn, exactly on the opposite side of the auditorium, also in the front rows. She looks after Daisy worriedly, but makes her way to her husband.

Daisy shows up next to Santana and Quinn only to find all the seats next to them are taken.

"Uh, mom?"

"Yeah, Daisy?" Quinn asks, eyes on the stage.

"Where am I supposed to sit?"

Quinn glances around them, as if aware, for the first time, that they didn't save a seat for Daisy. Santana gets up automatically.

"Sit here, Days."

Quinn lays a hand on her arm. "Don't be ridiculous. Where are you gonna sit? You know Bianca always cries when you leave." She turns to her daughter. "Your brother didn't want to sit with us. He's somewhere in the back. Why don't you go join him?"

Maybe Quinn doesn't notice Daisy's expression when she says this, but Santana does. She scrunches her face up in sympathy. "Or you can sit on my lap if you want?"  
Daisy longs for the comfort her mother's lap will provide, but she knows she will burst out crying if she sits there, the way she does when anyone shows her pity. So she shakes her head and heads to the back of the auditorium to look for her brother instead.

She spots him in one of the back rows, slouching and surrounded by empty seats, feet propped up on the one in front of him. She sits down next to him. Neither of them says anything. It feels like they haven't talked in a long time.

They're watching the students making their way on to stage- they're on the D's- when Daisy feels someone slip into the seat next to hers. She glances over and sees a teenage boy, but doesn't recognize him until she sees Elliott staring at him, his eyes piercing and shocked.

She turns to face kid fully. His pale blond hair is buzzcut, and he sports a faint black eye and a cut above his lip. Daisy would have recognized him in spite of all this; it's his expression she doesn't recognize. His features seem to have molded into a harsher version of the boy she knew, though for a split-second, when she looks at him, she swears she can almost see his mischievous, sparkling eyes. But he doesn't smile.

"Oh, Jaeger," she whispers softly, immediately reaching out to touch his face. She remembers, how when they were younger, she would run to comfort him when he fell or hurt himself. He never asked her to, but didn't push her away either, and instead just held on to her like she was a stuffed animal or something.

This time, though, he pulls back abruptly, almost violently. Daisy lets out a tiny gasp, and Jaeger shakes his head very slightly, turning back to face the stage. Elliott's got his eye on both of them, until, satisfied they're not going to cause any more trouble, he turns to face the stage, too.

Daisy, stuck in the middle, looks back and forth between the two of them.

"You're not even gonna say hi to each other?"

It's Jaeger who speaks first. "Hello, Elliott."

It's the first time in years he's gotten a good look at his brother. He's noticeably taller than him, now, and sporting a longish mop of hair that reminds Jaeger of his old hair. He's probably cuter that most people thought he'd turn out to be, though Jaeger always knew he'd be handsome.  
Elliott rakes his eyes over him, but doesn't say anything. Jaeger has prepared beforehand, hardened anything he might feel if he sees pity or sorrow in his eyes, but Elliott's learned, over the years, to not give anything away.

Their eyes fall on each other's almost coincidentally, and neither can bear to look away. There is no love lost on either side, but something like recognition, or maybe something neither is old enough to understand yet. It scares Elliott shitless and he's about to admit defeat, to look away, when Daisy, who hasn't missed the intense look on Jaeger's face and is suddenly afraid for her brother, cuts in.

"Jaeger?"

Jaeger tears his eyes away from Elliott's roughly, snaps at Daisy. "What?"

"Why did you move away?"

The younger Jaeger had never found reason to lie. Now, he realizes that getting older is nothing but that, being trained in the fine art of lying, of spinning everything around until it stops being what it is. He used to think it was OK, lying to protect other people, but now he sees it for what it is, self-preservation, a way to avoid getting hurt.

"I was tired of living with you guys."

Elliott looks at him murderously, the first sign of emotion he's shown all morning. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Jaeger?"

"Oh, so you're gonna talk to me all of sudden?"

"I'm not going to let you talk to my sister like that."

"She's my sister, too."

"So this is how you treat family?"

Jaeger looks down at his feet, and when he looks back up at Elliott, his eyes are fierce. "Why the fuck would you expect me to know anything about that, Elliott? It's not like I have one."

Elliott tries to keep the hurt out of his eyes, to make them as fierce as Jaeger's. "What do you call us, then?"

"You're not my blood."

"Fuck blood."

"Yeah. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"What are you-"

"Isn't it better, if we're not related, Elliott? Then you get to keep your stupid little crush, pretend like it's not-"

"Shut up," Daisy nearly shrieks. They both turn to look at her and she gestures toward the stage.

"Willow's walking."

* * *

Santana almost topples Jaeger over with a hug when she lays eyes on him. It's been nearly a year since they've seen each other, and every time, it seems like Jaeger gets thinner, paler, more sullen. He's refused multiple offers to visit and to be visited, and Santana doesn't know much about his life now, because her once chatty son has turned into this stranger that hardly ever talks.

Quinn says it's normal, that, if anything, she should be grateful he's silent instead of shouting at her every five minutes, the way Willow used to when she was that age. Elliott, if possible, has turned quieter, too, which gives Santana a mild sense of reassurance that maybe nothing is wrong with her son, that maybe it's just a phase. Or maybe, that's what she wants to believe, because she knows that whatever is wrong is something she cannot fix, something that is beyond her control now, slipped out of her grasp in the same way Jaeger has.

"What happened to your face?"

"Fell off my bike," he answers hastily, pulling away.

It's easy enough to believe, and Santana chooses to believe it as she takes a wrapped-up bundle from Quinn's arms. She uncovers Bianca's sleeping face and lowers her down slightly so Jaeger can see her.

"Your sister."

Jaeger looks upon her and feels curious and angry all at once. It's just like his mother and Quinn, to try to bring another kid into this world when things are so fucked already. He fiercely wants to protect this strange child, but knows he won't be able to, so it's easier to look away.

"You wanna hold her?"

"No."

"Jaeger-"

"It's fine, mom. I'll probably drop her."

Santana, who knows her son's never been gentle, doesn't know what to say. Jaeger doesn't tell her that this time it's different, that this time he feels like he's got a pack of dynamite strapped to his back, that this time, he scares even himself.

* * *

They go to dinner after, and Willow gets it now, what happens in those movies when older children have to go visit their parents and how they hate it so much. It feels like an invasion of privacy without really being one. She knows they don't mean to, she knows she was the one who invited them, but she still resents all these people being thrust into her life, wanting to know everything about it.

She's chatting with her Finn and and Rachel, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice. On the other end of the table, Sean and Santana are looking through one of Elliott's sketchbooks, and Quinn is breastfeeding Bianca, looking adoringly into her eyes. Willow cringes at the sight, and catches her father and Rachel looking startled upon her mother as well.

It is something Quinn would have never done before, pulled her breast out in the middle of dinner at a fancy restaurant. Willow doesn't know if she should be mortified or proud, but instead it just strikes her as funny, and she laughs. From across the table, Quinn hears her and looks up. She grins and Willow smiles back. Bianca gurgles happily.

Quinn turns her attention to her wife and Sean, who is looking at Elliott with something like awe.

"You drew all this?"

He nods, keeping his eyes on the table, not so much out of modesty, but from embarrasment.

Quinn takes the book from Sean. "Let me see."

She flips through several pages covered in sketches of naked men. Elliott obviously doesn't suffer for lack of live models, now. Quinn didn't know he was drawing all this; it is the first time in his life he hasn't objected to her seeing what he does.

She scrunches up her nose. Her son's eyes are fixed on her, watching her every expression.

Quinn sighs. "Well, they  _are_  good."

Santana nods vigorously. "You've gotten so much better, Elliott. Not that you weren't before, but-"

Jaeger, who has been sitting silently next to Elliott this whole time, makes a move to grab the sketchbook. He thinks Elliott will object, try to stop him, but Elliott just juts his chin out defiantly, and hands it to him. Jaeger's taken aback, but doesn't show it. It's kind of hard to believe that after all these years, Elliott still trusts him.

"It's not that. I'm just not afraid of people looking through it anymore," Elliott says, like he heard him. Jaeger remembers when it was like that, when it seemed like Elliott had the ability to read what he was thinking, and he would have though that distance and time would make it fade, but they haven't, and it makes him angry.

He looks through the pictures of the naked men and scoffs a little. "You fucking fag," he mutters softly.

He knows Elliott is the only one who heard him. He snatches the book from his hands and gets up abruptly, walking outside. Santana frowns and turns to her son.

"What's wrong with your brother?"

Jaeger shrugs. "Beats me."

"Why don't you go check on him?"

Jaeger glares at his mother, but knows he has no choice. He's heading outside when he spots Daisy running past him, tears in her eyes. She races into the bathroom and slams the door behind her.

It's like a choice, Daisy or Elliott, Daisy or Elliott, and Jaeger knows the answer almost instantly.

He will not go looking for Elliott, ever again.

* * *

Fresh air hits Elliott in the face as soon as he steps out. Just what he was looking for. He leans against the wall, pulls a cigarette from his pocket and lights it. Soon, he's joined by another figure. He doesn't turn around to see who it is until a familiar voice asks him if he can borrow his lighter.

Willow's boyfriend, Sean. For a moment, Elliott wonders if he should try to put out his cigarette, but decides against it. Sean already saw him anyway, and he's not looking at Elliott like he thinks anything of it.

They finish at the exact same time, even grind their cigarettes onto the ground with the same heel. Elliott thinks Sean will make his way back inside, but instead sees him making his way down the street.

"Hey."

Sean turns around, not sure if Elliott's talking to him.

"Where are you going?"

"Work."

Elliott straightens up. "Can I come with you?"

Sean shrugs.

* * *

"Sorry we're late."

Quinn tears her eyes away from her daughter's with supreme reluctance. She doesn't recognize the voice, and it must be a sign of how distant her life is now to the life she once had, because her mother and her father are here and she had no idea. They're both hugging Willow, and Quinn would get up if she could. She sees Santana looking at her, silently asking if she wants her to take Bianca, but Quinn is defiant. She is not going to take food out of her baby's mouth for anything, for anyone.

Her parents sit down and glance around the table before their eyes, simultaneously, land on Quinn and Bianca. Neither of them has ever seen their granddaughter before.

Quinn hasn't seen her father since she moved in with Santana, and she doubts if he even knows she gave birth to a daughter not too long ago. He glances at her exposed breast without meaning to and flinches. "Quinn, cover up, please."

Santana quickly pulls a blanket from Bianca's diaper bag and hands it to her wife, but Quinn shakes her head. "No, Daddy. I'm feeding my daughter. This is what it looks like."

Judy glances at Bianca and says what they're both thinking. "She looks nothing like you. She looks nothing like us."

Quinn grins. "I know." This is one of her favorite things about her daughter. There is nothing about the kid that reminds Quinn of herself, with her big brown eyes, and olive skin and crazy straight hair that sticks up no matter how many bows Quinn tries to put on her. "She's all Santana."

Her father's mouth twists into a displeased gesture. "Well, there's no way she could be, is there?"

"What do you mean?"

"That two women can't have children, Quinn. There is no way you could have had a child that looks like Santana when-"

She can tell that Santana wants to say something. Willow too, but Quinn holds them all off with just a look.

"Actually, Daddy, there is."

But Russel is already getting up and heading to the door. "I don't want to hear any more about this."

Judy, looking upset as well, follows her husband out when Bianca, sensing something isn't right, pulls away from Quinn's nipple and lets out a loud wail.

Judy stops in her tracks and heads back to the table. She walks up to Quinn's chair and glances at Bianca, who's still crying. Tentatively, she runs her hand through the baby's hair, trying to smooth it down, to no avail. She smiles a little.

"She cries just like you did when you were a baby."

Quinn feels her eyes watering, and Judy shakes her head, almost imperceptibly. "He'll come around. Eventually."

She pats her daughter's head, an awkward attempt at affection, then joins Russel outside.

* * *

Jaeger walks into the women's restroom and knocks on the door of the only occupied stall.

"Daisy?"

He can hear her breathing hard, but she doesn't say anything.

"Daisy? Are you OK?"

There is no answer, but now he thinks he can hear Daisy's muffled sobs.

"Daisy, can you talk?"

He knocks on the door again, louder this time, and then begins to shake it. "Am I going to have to kick this fucking door down?"

"Go away, Jaeger."

"I will... Will you just... tell me if you're OK?"

Daisy scoffs. "Like you care."

"Daisy, grow up."

For some reason, this only makes her sob even harder. "I told you to leave me alone."

"Fine. But I'm gonna get Quinn, then."

Daisy's voice is laced with panic. "No. Don't."

"Tell me what's wrong, then."

Daisy remains silent. Jaeger sighs and leans back against the wall, then slides down to a sitting position on the floor. He waits a couple of minutes before speaking again. "Are you ever going to come out of there?"

"No. Will you go away, now?"

"No. Not until you come out. I'll stay here all fucking night if I have to."

"Can you go call Elliott, please?"

"No. I don't even know where he is."

The restroom door swings open and a woman comes in. Daisy gasps a little. "Is someone in here?"

"No," Jaeger answers quickly as he flips the woman off and walks her to the door. "Fuck off."

She runs out the bathroom and Jaeger locks the door behind her. He goes back to his spot on the floor, thinking it's only a matter of time before the lady calls someone to come kick them out. Daisy's still silent and Jaeger can feel himself beginning to doze off. After a while, he speaks again.

"Daisy?"

She doesn't answer, and Jaeger thinks maybe she fell asleep, too.

"I didn't move away because I didn't want to live with you guys. I moved because my dad was sick."

Daisy's voice is very quiet, almost like a whisper, almost afraid. "What's wrong with him?"

Jaeger jumps. It's too late to go back now. It's the first time anyone's asked him this before. "He has cancer."

"Oh."

He loves her for not saying she's sorry, for being completely speechless, actually. That's the reason he's never told anyone but Jake; from whom he was guaranteed an unusual reaction anyway, since he's sick  _and_  he hates his father.

Jaeger was afraid of what everyone would say if they knew, all the things he kept repeating in his head, that it wasn't fair, that Jaeger was just a kid, that somebody else should take responsibility. The thing is, there was no one else, and Jaeger didn't want to, couldn't, betray his father's secret. The last thing Sam wanted was Santana and Quinn finding out and feeling like they'd won, although in his mind, Jaeger knew no one could be that cruel, least of all his mother and her wife.

"Is he doing better?"

Another question no one's ever asked him. More importantly, one he's never had the guts to ask himself.

"I don't think so. He's been sick for a long time, now." He pauses and says what he's been too afraid to say out loud. "I don't think he's gonna get better."

Daisy obviously doesn't know what to say. No one does in these situations, really, but at least she isn't trying to cover it up with bullshit babbling the way most adults would. A silence forms between them again and then, when Jaeger thinks he might be falling asleep for the second time, he hears Daisy's voice, faint and ashamed.

"Jaeger?"

"Yeah?" he asks, leaning his head back against the bathroom wall and shutting his eyes. "What is it?"

"I... I think I might have gotten my period."

Jaeger's up on his feet in an instant. "Daisy! Why didn't you say something?"

He can practically feel his sister blushing. "Because it's... I mean... you're..."

"I'm your brother," Jaeger says firmly.

"I know," Daisy says, like she never had any doubt about it. "It's just that... I don't know. Please don't tell mom."

"Why not?"

"She's busy with Bianca."

"That has nothing to do with you."

"It has everything to do with me."

Jaeger thinks back to their little sister. He doesn't know how the old Jaeger, the one who was used to never sharing Santana's attention or affection, would have felt about her, and he feels for Daisy, suddenly.

"I guess you're not the baby anymore, huh?"

"Nope. I'm just another middle child, now."

He doesn't say it, but he feels sorry for his sister. "I..." he lets his voice trail off.

"What?"

"Nothing." It sounds stupid, even in his head.

"Oh, Jaeger, come on."

"Nothing, I just... I wish things were different. For you. I mean, I don't wish that Bianca would go away or anything..."

"Neither do I."

"Ir's just... I'm always gonna see little Daisy when I look at you, you know? That girl with her dirty tutu and her tiny slippers. No matter how many Bianca's come after you. You're still you."

He doesn't know if Daisy understands this, if he even understands it himself, then decides there are more pressing matters at hand anyway.

"You want me to call Santana?"

"No."

"Willow?"

"No. I don't want to ruin her party." Jaeger doesn't say that he feels like it's already been ruined. Maybe it's just his perception.

He sighs. "Daisy, look, right now I kind of wish I was a chick, but I'm not, so I don't have any pads, and-"

"Can't you just ask one of the waitresses?"

He sighs again. "Yeah. OK. Fine."

"Jaeger?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're here."

He snorts. "Bet you wish I was Elliott, huh? He'd be doing a much better job."

"No. Elliott could never go ask one of the waitresses for a pad. He's too shy."

Jaeger feels a familiar pang, a stinging fondness for his brother. He lets it pass, unlocks the door and heads outside, where he runs right into Rachel.

"Shit."

"Jaeger?"

He straightens up. "Sorry."

"No, that's fine. Have you seen Daisy and Elliott? Finn sent me to look for them."

"Uh, yeah."

Rachel looks at him expectantly. "Well, where are they?"

Jaeger suddenly realizes he's just found the solution to his problem. "Actually, Daisy's in the bathroom. And she needs your help."

Rachel doesn't even think about it twice, just races to the restroom without waiting for Jaeger to finish. He wonders if he should go after her, but he's slightly relieved to have been let off the hook from this. And, anyway, he can't help but feel that Daisy is in good hands.

* * *

Elliott pulls out his sketchbook. It falls open to the page he doesn't ever have to try to look for. Shane squints at it, then goes wide-eyed.

"Cool. When did you draw it?"

"When I was a kid."

Shane smiles a little, pretty sure Elliott's still a kid. Then he turns serious. "You sure?"

"Yeah."

"This isn't just some spur-of-the-moment thing you're gonna regret later?"

"I've know I wanted it ever since I drew it," Elliott says. "I was seven."

Shane nods. "OK. Where?"

Elliott pulls up his shirt, feeling his heart fluttering beneath his ribs like there is a beetle already there. He picks the place right directly his heart. "Here."

Shane raises his eyebrows. "Your ribs? It's gonna hurt."

Elliott bites his lip, but nods. "I know."

* * *

Seeing her two daughters together is never a good sign, Quinn thinks. They're both so beautiful and grown-up that it should be, but, instead, when she sees them coming toward her, her heart sinks.

"Mom," Daisy says, and Quinn already feels like crying.

"Yes, baby?"

"I was wondering... do you think... do you think I could stay here for a couple more days?"

Whatever Quinn had seen coming, it wasn't this.

"But... Daisy... you're not supposed to come back here until... it's not your father's turn to-"

"I know. I just... I talked to Rachel, and she said it was OK."

Quinn immediately bristles at the mention of the name. "This is none of Rachel's business."

"It's her house, too, mom. And she told me to ask you first."

Quinn chews on her lip. It's like Rachel is going out of her way to make her look bad.

"Well, when will you be back home?"

Daisy fiddles with her fingers nervously. "I... I sort of... I don't know, mom. I kind of want to stay here for a while."

"A while? How long is a while?"

Daisy shrugs uncomfortably. Willow, who so far has managed to stay silent, lays a hand on her shoulder. Quinn frowns at both of them.

"You're doing this to get back at me, aren't you?"

Willow rolls her eyes. "To get back at you for what?"

"For having Bianca."

"Mamma, no one is mad at you for having Bianca. How could you even say that?"

"You think I can't tell Daisy doesn't like her?"

"It's not that I don't like her, mom."

"Then what is it?"

Daisy looks at a loss for words and Willow quickly steps in. "Look, you kind of have your hands full with Bianca right now, and-"

"No, I don't. Daisy..." Quinn's voice starts to break. "Do you... have I... Daisy, she's a baby. I can't... she needs attention right now. I'm sorry if-"

Willow sighs. "Mamma, no one is blaming you for anything."

"Yes, you are. Just the way both of you are looking at me. I feel so judged. Daisy, how can you do this to me?"

Now Daisy looks like she's about to burst into tears, too, and Willow remembers, suddenly, just how trying it was for her to live with her mother, and why she doesn't anymore.

"Mamma, don't be ridiculous. She's twelve years old. She doesn't even know what judging is. She is incapable of judging you."

Quinn's shoulders slump. "So I'm supposed to... I'm just supposed to... to let her go like that? Is that it? I'm not even allowed to prove myself, to fight for my own daughter?"

"No one is fighting, mom," Daisy says in a small voice.

"I feel like I'm in a fight."

"A fight with who?"

"I don't know. With Finn. With Rachel. With you, Willow. With all those people who said I was too old to be a mom."

Willow purses her lips. "Well, obviously you aren't. Bianca seems to be doing just fine."

"She is."

"But what about Daisy?"

Quinn turns to Daisy. "You don't feel like you're fine?"

It's so hard for Daisy to articulate what she feels. She's not even sure she knows anymore. "Mom, I-"

Willow cuts in again. "Mamma, you're tired. I can tell."

"I thought I was doing so good."

"You are doing good. You're the happiest I've ever seen you. That's not what I'm saying."

"Then what are you saying?"

Willow sighs. "Look, maybe this isn't even about you. Maybe it's just about Daisy. Maybe she needs a change of scenery. And it will give you a break. It doesn't have to be forever."

Quinn sighs. "Bianca's my priority right now. I'm not going to apologize for that. I'm sorry I wasn't the mother y'all expected me to be. But this time, I'm going to do it right."

Willow nods. "Is that a yes, then?"

Quinn bites her lip, looks up at her daughter, who now towers over her. "Rachel has no idea how to take care of a child." She pauses. "Promise you'll help?"

"I wouldn't be standing here if I was planning on abandoning Daisy, mamma."

Quinn nods, then turns to Daisy. "You have my blessing, then. Both of you. And my arms are always open for you, baby. Whenever you want to come back. I know lately it seems like they've been full, but... there's room for both of you. For all of you. Don't ever doubt that."

Daisy throws herself into Quinn's arms.

They feel as comfortable as ever, and yet she knows it's time to look for a new home.

* * *

They're at the airport, and Santana kisses the top of Jaeger's head as she hands him the baby.

"Hold on to Bianca for a moment, will you?"

She steps away to make a phone call. Jaeger has a seat nearby. He doesn't think his mother realizes this is the first time he's ever held Bianca. His sister is looking at him, bright eyed and beautiful, and Jaeger thinks it's so ironic that all he's seen for the last few years of his life is death approaching and yet here is life, resting so peacefully.

Someone has a seat next to him, and at first he thinks it's a stranger, but it's just Elliott, although, he guesses, they are kind of strangers, now.

Neither of them says anything, and Jaeger glances at the rainbow bracelet on Elliott's wrist.

"I'm not ashamed of it, you know."

Jaeger turns his clear eyes on him.

"Not anymore."

"Good for you."

"Jaeger, you were the one who taught me not to be ashamed of it."

All of sudden, it's too much, Elliott's voice, the baby, everything. He gets up and hands the baby to Elliott.

"Mom," he yells, making his way to the gate.

Santana hangs up the phone, races to him. "You have to go now?"

Jaeger nods. He knows he does.

Santana's eyes fill with tears Jaeger has seldom seen his mother shed. "Oh, baby. Are you sure you're alright?"

He nods again. "Yeah, mom. I'm going home." He knows it's true as soon as he says it, that, for better or for worse, that's his home now, his turf, the world he knows. The world he understands. He's no longer part of Elliott's world.

Elliott watches Jaeger go, then turns to look at the baby in his arms. She has no idea yet, of the shitfest this world is, of the way people turn against one another, and he loves her all the more for it. He wishes he could mold the world to his liking, to hers, so it will never sting, or water, or shake. He's never felt this way about anyone before. Or maybe he did once, but he can no longer remember.

Elliott knows he should probably go say goodbye; who knows when he'll see his brother again. And yet his feet remain glued to the ground.

He knows he will not go chasing after Jaeger ever again.

* * *

Jake steps outside, squinting in the sunlight. He hasn't been out at all, during the time they were gone. Quinn parks the truck and begins unloading their luggage. Santana jumps down from the passenger seat, carrying Bianca across her front on her sling. She frowns at Jake.

"Give us a hand, why don't you?"

He grins and helps Elliott carry his stuff. "Yeah, hello to you, too, sis."

He follows Elliott into the house until they reach his room, the one he used to share with Jaeger before Jake moved in. He's left it pretty much untouched, Jake realizes now. Even though it's been years since Jaeger left, even though he never visits, his stuff is still laying around, his bed is still there, like Elliott's been waiting for him to come back, burst through those doors at any minute. Jake shakes his head. He knows better, he knows Jaeger will not come home, probably ever again.

Elliott glances around the room, too, the realization hitting him at about the same time it hits Jake. "This room needs a remodel, huh?"

Jake nods wisely. "Maybe Daisy can... wait. Where  _is_  Daisy? I didn't see her get out of the car."

"She stayed with my dad."

"Oh. For the rest of the summer?"

Elliott nods at first, but then shakes his head. "Yeah, but I... I don't think she's coming back."

Jake makes no comment about this, but instead changes the subject abruptly. "You see Jaeger?"

Elliott nods.

"How is he?"

"He's... he's Jaeger," he answers, finally.

"Does he love you yet?"

Elliott doesn't even bother to deny it, but sighs instead. "It's about time for me to be getting rid of this stupid crush, huh?"

"I'm glad  _you_  said it." Jake pauses. "Did he tell you about...?"

"About what?" Elliott's eyes are piercing on him, and at once, Jake knows he did not.

"Are you sure you want to know? Because if I tell you, you will never be able to let him go."

Elliott rubs his face with both hands, and suddenly, he looks exhausted. "I'm too young to have to make this decision, aren't I?"

Jake shrugs noncommittally. "Yeah. Maybe. Probably. You still have to make it, though."

Elliott sighs. "I don't want to know. Maybe later. But not now. Not for another couple years."

It might be too late then, Jake thinks, but doesn't say anything. Instead, he changes the subject again. "So, why is Daisy leaving?"

"I don't think she likes Bianca very much."

"Huh. Do you?"

Elliott shrugs. "She's about the only person in this family I can stand right now," he answers honestly.

Jake shakes his head, ruffles his hair. "What about me, you punk?"

Elliott laughs, and Jake thinks it's been months since he's seen him do that.

"You wanna know a secret?"

Elliott shrugs.

"I don't like Bianca too much myself."

His nephew looks at him, mouth hanging open. "But... she's your kid."

Jake shrugs. "Not really. And I don't like children anyway. They make me nervous."

Elliott laughs again. "That's your secret? It's bullshit."

Jake grins, but keeps the real secret to himself.

_I don't like children, but if I'd had one of my own, I'd have wanted him to be just like you._

* * *

Late at night, after Santana's fallen asleep, Quinn pulls Bianca out of her crib and goes into Daisy's room.

She's never cried in front of her baby before, and she doesn't want to start now, not when this pregnancy and birth were so ideal, not when everything feels like it's been some sort of magic, and, for the first time in her life, right.

But she can't help herself. She thinks that this room will be Bianca's in a couple of years, because she's pretty certain Daisy won't be back. It's one thing, saying goodbye to your kid when they go off to college, and another totally different one altogether saying goodbye to your twelve year old. She understands now, how Santana must have felt saying goodbye to Jaeger, and wishes she didn't.

The shaking in her chest and her faint gasps wake up Bianca, who cries, too. But at least her tears have a solution, Quinn thinks. She's just hungry.

She takes of her top and Bianca attaches herself to her breast. Quinn tries to stop crying, but she can't, and finally, she falls asleep still sobbing, her daughter cuddled into her chest.

* * *

The next morning, when Jake gets up, he finds Elliott sitting on the couch, lacing up his running shoes. Jake didn't even know he owned any.

"Let's go."

"Huh?"

"You're not going running?"

For a number of years, before Bianca was born, Santana used to run with him.

"But she says she's got better things to do, now, that she's done running away."

Elliott nods like he knows exactly what Jake's talking about. "She is. But I'm not, and neither are you."

Jake watches as Elliott changes into a different shirt, revealing, in the process, a beetle tattoo that he could almost swear is moving beneath his heart, over his ribs.

"Jesus, Elliott."

He looks like he wants to cover it up quickly, for a minute, but then decides against it and just shrugs.

Jake pauses. "Does your mom...?"

"No, of course not."

It's not like Jake doesn't know the exact reason he got it. It's not like he doesn't know Elliott will probably come to regret it. There isn't really much he can say that Elliott doesn't already know, so he just shrugs.

"Welcome to the family."

"Huh?"

"I guess this officially makes you a Lopez, now."

Elliott's eyes go wide, like he hadn't thought about it before. "I guess so, huh?"

Jake makes a face and shrugs again.

He doesn't know he's just given Elliott a reason to never regret the bug drawn on his chest.

* * *

When Santana gets up, the house is empty, and she can't find Quinn. She remembers once upon a time, when this used to freak her out so, because she was afraid of Quinn leaving for good at any minute of any day. She knows better now.

She finds her in Daisy's room, asleep on her bed, with dried tears streaking her cheeks and Bianca wide awake at her breast. She pulls her away from Quinn's arms gently, wraps her up in one of Daisy's blankets, and carries her outside.

She set up a hammock on their backyard a couple of months ago, when Quinn was still pregnant, after a vacation they'd taken to the beach. They'd had one in their room there, and Quinn had fallen in love with it, insisted that it was something that instantly improved your quality of life. With a smile, Santana had bought one and surprised her with it on her birthday, and Quinn had spent pretty much the rest of her pregnancy rocking herself to sleep on that thing.

Santana's seldom had a chance to use it, but, now, it seems like as good a time as any, especially because Bianca loves it. Santana unties her robe and lays Bianca on her chest the way she used to do with Jaeger when he was little. The baby is instantly soothed by the sound of her mother's heart and the swinging of the hammock, and they both fall in and out of sleep at varying rhythms, just in time for the sunrise.

* * *

Quinn gets up from bed and, still topless, joins Santana outside. She is as thirsty as she's ever been in her life, and her throat is hoarse from crying. Santana smiles at her when she sees her, and scoots over on the hammock, making room for her as she hands her a glass of orange juice. Quinn drinks it all in one swig as she lays down, resting her head on Santana's shoulder.

Bianca is resting on their bare chests, the wind is blowing, the hammock is swinging, and life goes on, the way it always does, bursting, even out of the tiniest spaces.

Even in darkness, making light.


End file.
